


how bold I was, could be - will be - still am, by god, still am

by ElloPoppet



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: And A Good Bro, Angst, Awesome Karen Page, Awkward Tension, BAMF Foggy Nelson, Blood and Injury, But also, Clubbing, Dancing, Declarations Of Love, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Family Feels, Fat Shaming, First Aid, First Dates, First Kiss, Flirting, Flower Crowns, Grief/Mourning, Grinding, Hair Braiding, Haircuts, Homophobia, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt Matt Murdock, Hurt Thor (Marvel), Implied Sexual Content, Long Hair, M/M, Matt Murdock is an asshole, POV Foggy Nelson, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Matt Murdock, Rare Pairings, Self-Esteem Issues, Showers, Sleepovers, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Thor Lives in Bed-Stuy, Ticklish Thor, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23765461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElloPoppet/pseuds/ElloPoppet
Summary: Six months after Theo and Anna Nelson were snapped back into existence following five years of torturous absence, Nelson’s Meats re-opened its doors to the public....Foggy didn’t know if it was the man’s body shape, the fact that he was wearing blue-jeans and a hoodie, or the sunglasses (a possible combination of the three?) that had caused his brain tonot recognize that there was a fucking god in his family’s store, butthere was a fucking god in his family’s store.“Franklin Nelson,” Thor said, his voice low but unmistakable. “It’s wonderful to see you doing well! I didn’t realize this was your family’s establishment.”
Relationships: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie/Carol Danvers, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson/Thor, Kate Bishop/Karen Page, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 123
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is all FadedSepia's fault (thanks, love). 
> 
> It started out as a conversation about rarepairs and I offhandedly mentioned the thought of pairing these two together and she mentioned something about Thor putting flowers in Foggy's hair and HERE THE FUCK I AM, FRIENDS.
> 
> Sep also beta'd this chapter for me like an absolutely brilliant boss and managed to make my late night/early morning ramblings read like something coherent, so bless her. The mistakes that are left are mine all mine. 
> 
> Uh. I really liked writing this chapter and I feel like this is going to be longer than I even have estimated in my head sooooo.....let's see. I've not ever really written either of these guys so I make no promises that this won't be a pile of garbage (LOVE THE CONFIDENCE? READ MY STORY!)
> 
> With that said, if you are here I already owe you a mighty thank you and I really, really do appreciate you to the bottom of my heart. I hope you find something here to enjoy!
> 
> -EP
> 
> Also, the title is a lyric from the song 'The Horror and the Wild' by The Amazing Devil. You should all go listen to them asap.

Six months after Theo and Anna Nelson were snapped back into existence following five years of torturous absence, Nelson’s Meats re-opened its doors to the public. 

It was an affair both joyous and stressful, as most things were at the time. The world had never fully adjusted to the loss of billions of its children; the grief had remained palpable and the economic impact had only just started stabilizing when Tony Stark had solved the small problem of time travel and then? 

The resurgence of the lost brought about nearly as much chaos and destruction as their disappearance had. The difference had been, of course, that humanity was much better at problem solving and overcoming their shit while feeling elated rather than distraught. 

Even that day had been distressing. Watching loved ones and strangers be stitched back together, ash by ash from the nothingness of the air, after having witnessed the horrific reversal just as suddenly in the years prior? It wasn’t uncommon to hear folks joking about how it was a good thing that the availability of therapists had suddenly doubled. 

Joy and stress. Chaos and destruction. Elation and terror. And then there they were, nearly half a year to the day later, exhausted and jubilant. The Nelson family, cutting the bright white ribbon on their newly painted and redecorated deli, a group of neighbors and other locals (some from around the corner, some further still) gathered around the front. The Parker kid, snapping photos with his friends, and that reporter, Christine Everclear? Everman? On sight and ready to report. She was around a lot, those days, covering the rebuilding and re-opening of New York. A pretty face to have for the pretty stories. 

It was a _good_ day, and Foggy was grateful for it.

Gratitude had started to feel like a foreign concept to Foggy, even before most of the people that he loved were snatched away from him in the blink of an eye, back then. He and Matty had just been regaining their footing after having been on the outs for what felt like forever when Matt had crumbled to dust in the middle of an opening statement in the courtroom. 

Foggy’s relationship with Marci had started down the road of most relationships; the “roller coaster,” as he had dubbed it in his mind, the good times now interspersed with times of tension and stress. Not that it was unrealistic as their relationship stretched across the years, no. Naturally, they had been on a downward swing at the time of the snap, and they hadn’t been able to come together as a force of one rather than allow their pain to drive them apart. 

It had been hard to be grateful. Without his Mother, without Theo, without Matt, with Marci gone from his home and his arms. 

They had made the best of it that they could, of course. The rest of the world, yes, but more specifically Foggy, his Dad and Karen. Though it had taken a solid amount of time, Foggy had taken it upon himself to gather a few other partner-less lawyers in Hell’s Kitchen in order to form a small firm. Their specialty was drastically different than any of them could have foreseen; Foggy found himself defending family members against funeral home price gouging, utility price hikes, governmental benefit denials. Karen and even his Father did what they could to support Foggy and his not-so-merry band of cohorts for the years that they waded through the shit, and Nelson’s Meats had sat, dormant and forgotten, like most other family-run businesses in Hell’s Kitchen, and everywhere else. 

Needless to say, Mom hadn’t been pleased to see the state of the place when she had come home. 

After the shock/awe/tears/panic/hugs/more tears had died down a bit, Anna had torn down the boards to the windows and door herself (with her bare hands, no less), ignored the scream of rusted metal screeching against rusted metal as she’d pulled the door open, and had stood in the dark deli with her hands on her hips while her three Nelson men had simply stood just inside the doorway, watching, waiting, and holding their breath. 

“Don’t just stand there,” Anna had said, turning around to look at them, a smile in her voice and determination in her eyes. “We’ve got work to do, and a lot of it.”

*

“...what?” 

Foggy snapped to, looking over to where his Mom stood now, her eyes gleaming with vigor against the backdrop of blue skies and the chattering of excited New Yorkers. Ah, right. Present day. Grand re-opening. The ribbon was cut, the two halves fluttering on the asphalt, and Mom was already admonishing him. 

“Work to do, Franklin! Let’s get to it, then!”

“Yeah, Ma. I hear you. Go on, then, fearless leader. To the trenches.” Foggy gestured toward the door, knowing if he tried to hold it open for her that he’d lose a hand; that was _her_ door to open. Even though he was sure the daily running of the joint would make it back to Theo eventually, it didn’t seem like his parents would be jumping back into semi-retirement any time soon, and Foggy couldn’t fault them for it. Hell, even he couldn’t find an atom of complaint within himself as he stepped behind the meat counter, slipping on gloves and fishing around for a hairnet before the inevitable stampede could begin. He had tried to cajole his locks into a manageable bun, but it was useless; five years of growth did what it wanted, and he damn well _knew_ it would take him all of 15 minutes before he started to sweat, and so he doubled up on the hairnet and settled in behind the meat counter, ready to help his family out on their first day of business in nearly six years. 

It was enough to make his eyes burn, and he was comfortable enough in his masculinity to not think of any excuses as to why, other than to thank the fucking stars that they were all there together, already smelling like cold cuts before the first customer even hit the counter. 

*

Throughout much of Foggy’s adulthood (and most of his childhood, if he were being honest; his family could be a bunch of loveable assholes, after all), the running joke had been that “it’s a good thing you went to college, Franklin, because you can’t make a decent sandwich to save your life!” Usually, it would be his Dad or Theo to give him shit, but sometimes even his Ma would chime in with “oh, hon, what did the cow do to you? It’s already been butchered once, dear, and well the first time around.” The barbs had hurt a bit when he was younger but now? Foggy took the comments in stride and damn near wore them as a badge of honor, using his fumbling inelegance with carving knives and around the meat blocks as a way to build quick rapport with customers. 

“It might not look pretty, but it’s made with love and that’s what counts, right?”

“To be honest, you’re probably getting more meat than bone with these chops here, more than you’re supposed to, so you’re welcome!”

“You wanted extra mustard, brother? Well, you’re gonna get it, because otherwise you’re gonna have to see how I truly mangled this ham of yours and nobody wants to see that, so. Here you go, enjoy it for me, yeah?” 

Foggy handed that last order across the counter to their last customer of the day and damn if he wasn’t happy that was the case. They had been pumping out sandwich and chip baskets, cuts of meat, shaved deli meats, pickled wursts and things that Foggy didn’t even remember his family carrying for nearly ten straight hours and he was _starving_ , not to mention that his feet hurt, his face felt moist and greasy, and he could feel how badly the red of his flushed cheeks was clashing with his hair. 

The small sit-down area of the deli had all but cleared out with nightfall as it often did in their part of town, two teenagers finishing up their sandwiches at the front of the shop and this last guy getting ready to pay at the front counter. He was a huge dude but seemed friendly enough, if quiet. Theo had called out his order to Foggy from the register, but Foggy stepped forward to hand over the basket himself, intending on de-gloving and sneaking around from behind the counter to flip the open sign to closed. Mom and Dad were busy in the back, working on packing up meats, cleaning dishes, prepping for the night deposit. 

Foggy glanced up to wish their patron a good night as he passed the sandwich across the countertop, and came up short, words faltering in his mouth as he really gave the guy more than a cursory onceover for the first time since he had come in. Tall, broad shouldered, obviously large build with a round, soft shape to his body. Foggy didn’t know if it was the man’s body shape, the fact that he was wearing blue-jeans and a hoodie, or the sunglasses (a possible combination of the three?) that had caused his brain to _not recognize that there was a fucking God in his family’s store_ , but _there was a fucking God in his family’s store_. 

“Franklin Nelson,” Thor said, his voice low but unmistakable. “It’s wonderful to see you doing well! I didn’t realize this was your family’s establishment.”

Foggy knew how stupid he looked. How else could one look with their jaw as slack as his was? He closed his mouth quickly, the clack of it audible, and he cringed. Theo snorted from beside him, before patting Foggy on the back. 

“I’m gonna close up,” Theo announced. “Fog, you should eat something. Maybe with your friend?” Theo stepped aside, as though to move away, but Thor held out a hand. 

“But wait! What do I owe, for my meal?”

Theo smirked. “Really?”

Thor looked confused, eyebrows dipping below the top of his sunglasses’ frames. “Of course, Brother of Nelson. You don’t operate your business by giving away your food?”

“Let’s just say it’s on the house,” Theo said. “For saving the world, and all. You know, bringing my Mom and I back. I think we can spare you a sandwich.” Theo grinned and sent off a small salute before stepping away from the counter, leaving Foggy to splutter in front of Thor _by himself._

“That isn’t necessary,” Thor said, sighing. “I extend my thank you to your family, Franklin.”

“Foggy,” Foggy blurted out. “Please. Just-Foggy. And, ah. It’s good to see you, too. It’s been a long time?” It came out like a question, and Foggy wanted the Earth to swallow him whole. “I’m sorry if I seem like a total loser right now, I really just can’t get over the fact that you even _remember_ me. We met one time.”

“At Stark’s Holiday Festival party, many years back. You also seem to remember, why should it be a surprise that I would as well? I learned much from you about the Midgard tradition of donning unattractive holiday clothing. And of eggnog! It was...disgusting.” Thor’s mouth turned up into a small smile as Foggy burst into surprised laughter, and some of Foggy’s nerves melted away. 

“Great. Is that my legacy amongst your people? Foggy Nelson, Earthling of ugly sweaters and gross Christmas booze?” Foggy started to peel his gloves off but thought better of it, choosing instead to turn around to grab two pieces of bread from the bread box, choosing to heed his brother’s advice to fix himself a quick sandwich before he passed out. Before he turned, he didn’t miss a flash of...something on Thor’s face. Something wistful, a nerve hit, and Foggy winced to himself as he recalled having read something years ago about the destruction of Asgard, the establishment of New Asgard on Earth. 

Foggy stood straight, his body going rigid before he turned back to face Thor. 

“So, I’m a dick. I didn’t mean to bring up-”

“It is fine, Foggy. Would you like to join me?” Thor spoke hurriedly, cutting Foggy off before he could form an apology on his tongue, and the invitation caused another bout of whiplash for Foggy. _I’m getting too old for this superhero surprise shit_. 

“Uh, yeah. I mean...you want me to?” Foggy resisted turning around to look over his shoulder, to see if there was someone else Thor could have been talking too, which he completely knew was asinine. 

Thor’s face brightened. “A meal with a friendly face? It would be an honor.” And, oh boy, okay then, his enthusiasm was so genuine that Foggy couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Okay. Take a seat, I’ll be right there.”

And so Foggy watched Thor Odinson, God of Thunder,pick up his sandwich and chip basket, stride over to a table in his family’s meat deli, sit down, _and wait for Foggy to join him for dinner._

Having been friends with Matt for so goddamn long, Foggy wasn’t used to having to ask himself this question very often anymore, but all he could think in that moment was “how in the blue fuck is this my life?”

He continued to steal glances at Thor as he assembled something resembling a sandwich, taking in the many changes that had occurred since the last time they had been in a room together. Thor’s hair was much longer, falling in waves over his shoulders; his facial hair was incredibly long as well and Foggy found himself enraptured by the smattering of small braids twirled into Thor’s beard. The most obvious change was Thor’s weight and shape; whereas Foggy remembered feeling intimidated by Thor’s muscular build way back when, Foggy could trace soft curves of Thor’s body; his stomach, arms, thighs, the shape of his face. It was a jarring change, although not an unpleasant one….one that Foggy knew not to poke verbally with a 10 foot long stick, nonetheless. 

That didn’t mean Foggy didn’t find himself still intimidated. On the contrary, Foggy’s pulse was pounding as he walked toward the table and he would have bet the day’s profit that his heartbeat was audible to Matt on the other goddamn side of town by the time he sat down across from Thor. Thor, who had finally removed his sunglasses, letting Foggy lay eyes on him fully for the first time in over half a decade. 

The urge to stare into the eyes that met his - one golden, one crystal blue - was overwhelming, but Foggy gazed only briefly, choosing instead to raise his sandwich in an awkward salute, taking a bite before he said something possibly mortifying and probably idiotic. 

But because he was Foggy and, therefore, not subtle in the least, he couldn’t stop himself from peeking across the table every three-point-four seconds, attention drawn to the uneven display of colors that were focused straight ahead or on Thor’s task of eating. Foggy would have remembered the golden eye, a reflection of the sun in the absence of a celestial body. 

“Does it cause you discomfort, my eye?” 

Thor’s voice was absent of emotion, even lacking curiosity, and Foggy nearly choked in his hurry to answer. 

“Oh, Christ, no! Fuck, not at all. I’m sorry, sorry. I just - I remember two very blue eyes from way back when. I was caught off guard, which doesn’t give me an excuse to be an asshole, or - like I said earlier - I’m a dick.” Foggy swallowed again, wanting to eat his words. “Neither of your eyes bothers me. Your blue eye is as nice and blue as I remember, and your new golden one is shiny and bright and...Yep, gonna stop with the talking now.”

Thor was looking at him like Foggy was the alien at the table, which was honestly fine: it might be for the best if Foggy could find a way to blast off of the face of the planet at that moment. 

“I thank you,” Thor said, gruffly. “I lost the other blue one. I was also rather fond of it, myself, but,” Thor shrugged, a cloying smile making its way to his face, self-deprecating and shit-eating at the same time, “I suppose I could do worse than shiny and bright.”

Foggy grimaced and nodded, turning his focus back to his food once Thor commenced taking a giant bite of his own sandwich, the conversation settled for the time being. 

Thor and Foggy ate in silence for a few moments, and it didn’t take long for their shared meal to begin feeling companionable, what with the air adequately cleared and Thor visibly more at ease. The teenagers left quickly after they spent a few minutes elbowing each other and whispering loudly about whether or not it _really was_ or _couldn’t be_ Thor sitting a few feet away from them. It was amusing to Foggy, especially when Thor looked over to them straight on and shot them a small wave, causing them to shriek and fall over each other as they scrambled to bolt out of the shop. Theo locked up behind them and flicked the outside lights off before he started mopping behind the counter. 

“Does it get weird, having fans wherever you go?” Foggy asked, deciding that it would be strange to let the silence stretch now that he was out of food. Thor hummed and popped another chip into his mouth. 

“You Midgardians do get a bit...weird, with your fanatics,” he responded. “Most times it’s pleasant; sometimes it can be very much the opposite. There are others who deserve the recognition more than I, but I believe it would be odd to say that in response to gratitude.” 

Foggy shifted his gaze back to the silhouette of Thor’s face, studied it a bit closer. The God’s demeanor was certainly different than Foggy remembered it being, but that was to be expected; it was the case for most everybody these days, after all. The reversal of trauma didn’t just happen overnight, even after the trauma itself ended, and, even though Thor wasn’t exactly human, Foggy was willing to bet that he bled and felt pretty damn close to one just the same. 

Damn. He was going to have to start tipping his therapist. 

“If that’s your way of trying to guilt me into letting you pay for your sandwich, I’m not that easy,” Foggy joked, going for broke. 

Thor grinned. “Well then, a challenge! I haven’t had one of those in, oh, half of a Gregorian year or so. I would say I’m due.” At Foggy’s snort, Thor continued, leaning back a bit in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. “I know I may not look it, but I can afford to cover my bill.”

Foggy cocked an eyebrow. “You sure? Jeans and a hoodie are a far cry from that fancy getup you used to fly around in. You just couldn’t give up normal people clothes once you got a taste, could you? Say it with me, Thor: Com-for-table. Besides, I have to imagine saving the world a few times over has to come with some kind of bonus check from, like, Zeus, right?”

Thor rolled his head on his shoulders to shoot Foggy a stern look. “Franklin Nelson. Do you not know how uncouth it is to say the name of an enemy God in the presence of an Asgardian?”

Foggy’s mouth went dry. “Um. N-no?” Aw, fuck. Foggy was going to get Avenged. Avenger-ed? Foggy had _somehow fucked this up._

He thought. For a moment. Until Thor _winked_ at him, his golden eye disappearing for a split second. 

“It’s a joke. Zeus is a myth. You humans are far too easy to trick.”

When Foggy laughed, Thor joined him and for a few minutes Foggy forgot about lingering distress and allowed for the simple pleasure of laughing with a familiar face inside of his family deli on the day of its grand re-opening.

The sensation was strange, but it wouldn’t hit him until nearly half an hour later when he locked the door behind Thor as he left; Foggy had the number of a God saved in his phone, the thought of _this probably isn’t real life, this is somehow the result of sandwich fumes, how am I gonna tell Matty and Karen that I’m potentially making friends with the offspring of literal Odin?_ on repeat in his head, and his face ached from smiling. 

_He felt carefree_. 

Until his smile turned into a scowl as he bussed his and Thor’s table, a $20 bill staring crisply up at him from where it was revealed from beneath Thor’s sandwich and chip basket. Foggy snatched up the money and stuffed it into his pocket, determined to keep it in a safe place until it could be returned to its rightful owner. 

The war on humanity may have been over, but this? This was a war that Foggy was eager to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that Anna is technically Fog's stepmom. But Rosalind is trash and has no place here so Mama Anna it is, full stop, sorry not sorry.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who took the time to read, drop a kudos and comment on the first chapter of this odd little fic - thank you so very much!
> 
> Second chapter again beta'd by FadedSepia, who, lemme tell you, has done you all a favor by turning sleep-addled mush into actual sentences. Any leftover mush belongs solely in my bowl. Or something. The metaphor is there somewhere. 
> 
> Please enjoy <3

“Well if it isn’t my second favorite lawyer from Nelson, Murdock & Page.”

Foggy startled, surprised to see Kate Bishop answering the door to the apartment building in Bed-Stuy where he found himself a handful of mornings after what was now known in his mind as “the Sandwich Night.” After some sleuthing in the form of, well, simply asking Matty if _he_ had heard from Jess whether or not she had heard from Clint about where Thor might have been crashing around the city, it had taken all of an hour for Foggy to track down Thor without simply texting him for his address. 

That would have been far too easy and also far less fun. If Foggy needed one thing, it was fun. 

As he would learn via Matty-Jess-Clint, Thor had been staying in Clint’s old apartment building in Bed-Stuy for the last month or so, following a stint _in space_ with a crew that had helped the Avengers take down Thanos earlier in the year. Because _of course_ , Foggy now had a casual acquaintance that he could drop in on mid-week who had recently returned from _space_. Who also happened to be Norse God. Just a standard Tuesday, really. 

Regaining his composure, Foggy smiled at Kate. “Well, that’s just charming, really. Good morning to you, too, Ms. Bishop. Experience had me believing that you would still be dead asleep. It’s good to see you; how’ve the evictions been going lately?” Foggy knew damn well how they were going, as a partner in his temporary firm had ensured a stay for one of the tenants in the building during the time of the snap. Foggy had actually done his best to help Kate understand landlord laws following her loss in court, as Clint had all but vanished during the five year _Fuckening_ , leaving the running of the complex in her hands. She had been grateful, reluctantly so, and Foggy couldn’t say that he was disappointed to see her… just shocked to see her up before noon. 

Kate rolled her eyes and leaned against the doorway. “They’re a pain in my ass, no thanks to you, and no thanks for asking. Where’s the cute one?”

Foggy’s plastered-on smile became a genuine grin at her question, and delight spread through him when he noticed the tint of pink highlight her cheeks. 

“Karen’s either still asleep or at the office with Matty. Why? You miss her? She is awfully easy to miss.” His tone was teasing, and Kate rolled her eyes. 

“Why do you always have to be such a jerk?” She asked, her tone belying the fact that she was enjoying their banter. “And maybe, yes, a bit. You should tell her to call me for -you know - reasons that I can’t think of at the moment.” 

Foggy snorted. “What, I can’t just tell her to call you because you’re obsessed with her and you want to carry her red-headed, arrow-slinging children?”

Kate groaned and kicked off from the doorframe, the black waves of her hair falling around her face as she did so. “Why are you _here_ Nelson? What did I do to deserve this? Who’s suing me now?”

Foggy held up his hands, empty in surrender. “Fine, fine, sorry. Nobody that I know of. I’m here to see… uh…Thor.” Foggy cleared his throat, suddenly dry and constricted. “I'm here to see Thor?”

Kate cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a question, or-?”

“Oh, my _God_ Bishop, which one is Thor’s apartment before I _sue you myself?_ ” 

Kate let out another over-dramatic sigh before turning and heading into the building, leaving the door wide open in an obvious, if reluctant, invitation. Foggy followed, closing the door tightly behind him before following her up a flight of stairs that probably didn’t feel safe and secure on the best of days, protesting their weight as they climbed. Kate strode up to the second door on the left hand side of the second floor hall, slapping her palm beneath the _22_ that hung crookedly just above the center of the door. 

Foggy cocked his head. “It… seems not physically possible for there to even be twenty-two apartments in this building.”

Kate snorted. “Yeah, no. Whoever numbered the units was high or number-dyslexic or some shit. Or maybe it was Clint and he thought he was being funny. Either way, our resident lovable maintenance man lives here. Dunno if he’s actually in, though; it’s hit or miss. I think he had to run and get some things to repaint the empty apartment upstairs. Anything else, oh Fancy-Pants lawyer?”

Foggy stared at her for a few long moments without blinking. She stared back, face not moving a muscle. The silence stretched until her left eye twitched.

“I’m sorry- You have an Avenger working as your apartment building maintenance man? Is that what you just said to me?” Foggy finally asked.

Kate squinted her eyes at him. “Uh-huh. Another one of them owns this building, in case you forgot. I’ve also done a thing or two to help out this hellhole of a city, too, in case that’s also slipped your mind.”

Foggy reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Let me rephrase, and them I’m going to knock on this door and not see you again until Karen inevitably brings you around for family dinner night” - Kate squawked- “You have a literal _God_ working as your apartment maintenance man?”

To her credit, Kate’s face softened at that, as though she could understand Foggy’s wonderment as to _why_ and _how_. She opened her mouth, the beginning note of an answer escaping before the door to apartment 22 cracked open. 

“Foggy?” 

A sliver of Thor’s face was visible through the door, a faded gold chain taught at eye-level and keeping it from opening completely. Foggy noted absently that Thor didn’t appear to be wearing a shirt, wondered if he had caught him asleep and kicked himself for not texting first. Sure, he had been hoping for the element of surprise (why? In the moment, he wasn’t so sure anymore), but maybe that had been...rude.

“Hey, yeah! Sorry, I, uh. I was just… around, wanted to stop in and say hello, and good morning.” Foggy cleared his throat. “Hello, Thor. Good morning!”

“Ohmygod,” Kate muttered under her breath, stealing Foggy’s attention for a moment as she turned around to head back down the stairs. “This is painful. I can’t take this. _‘Hey, Thor, good morning, Thor, notice me, Thor!’_ he says, Christ…” Her voice faded as she receded, black waves bouncing, and Foggy wished for the shortest second that the staircase would give way. 

When he turned back to Thor’s apartment door, it was in time to see the door click shut, and if that wasn’t enough to make Foggy want to die, well. Much to his relief, it was only for a moment, the door swinging wide open after the audible slide of the chain lock being removed.

Thor stood just inside and - right - he was shirtless, wearing black basketball shorts and a pair of black socks. Foggy struggled to pull his eyes from the broad expanse of skin and shoulders suddenly before him, sweat-shiny and flushed. Thor’s beard was tied just below his chin, his impressive length of hair piled on top of his head and held together with, by Foggy’s estimation, _fucking magic._ Foggy’s eyes wandered to Thor’s face, which was also red, with rivulets of sweat making their way from his temple to his throat. His chest was heaving and it was quite obvious that he had been engaging in some kind of exercise. 

It was also evident that Thor seemed happy to see him, from what Foggy could see, a broad smile stretched across his face. Half of his mouth was hidden from where Thor was covering his right eye with a large hand. Something in Foggy’s chest tightened and he sucked in a small breath, preparing to say something, anything-

“What a surprise it is, finding you at my door. How did you know where to come? Please, join me, come in,” Thor motioned with his left hand into the apartment, and Foggy nodded once before stepping inside. 

“Thanks. I asked my buddy, you remember, Matt Murdock?” Foggy watched as Thor closed them inside before inching around Foggy and into the open kitchen, back to him as Thor lowered his hand from his face to turn on the sink. 

“Ah, yes. The Daredevil himself. Hard to forget; he nearly bested me at the bouncing of the quarters, at the party. Do you remember?” Thor soaped up his hands beneath the stream of the faucet, and Foggy felt himself startle. 

“Quarter-bounce, yeah, you all lost your shit about the blind guy almost beating your asses- Hey, did you know that he was Daredevil, even back then?” 

Thor tossed Foggy a glance over his left shoulder; a glance, and a small smirk. Foggy swallowed down misplaced feelings of bitterness, choosing instead to push forward. 

“Right. You guys probably knew who everybody was, high clearance and everything. Stupid question. Anyway, I asked him if he knew where I might be able to find you. He plays cards with Clint sometimes, Clint, Sam and Jessica Jones, a couple others here and there. I found you, pretty quick.” Foggy was rambling at that point, watching from behind as Thor plucked a plastic container from the counter, screwing off the lid before it disappeared in front of his body.

Once Thor had placed his prosthetic eye back into its socket, he turned around to face Foggy fully, blinking rapidly for a moment before settling his gaze. Foggy took the blue and bourbon into account and smiled, something small, something that Thor returned with ease.

“And do tell why you couldn’t just ask me yourself?” Thor asked, somewhat teasing.

“I couldn’t have you avoiding me now, could I?” Foggy retorted, unable to keep from sounding ridiculous, the entire childish situation fully recognized in his mind for what it was. Refusing to blush or back down, Foggy reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled twenty dollar bill, slapping it down onto the kitchen island. 

Thor looked at the bill on his counter, and a moment later his belly was quaking with laughter. He shook his head and moved around the island, clapping a large hand on Foggy’s shoulder as he stepped by him, pointedly ignoring the money. The warmth of the touch soaked through Foggy’s shirt. 

“I should have known. I can’t say I’m not glad to see you’ve a fighting spirit, my friend!” Thor said jovially, squeezing lightly before letting go and making his way into the living room of the apartment. Foggy went to follow, feeling a moment of awkward panic settling in before he did so. 

“Uh, shoes off?” Foggy called. Thor popped back into sight, pulling a black t-shirt over his head. 

“If you plan on staying awhile, I’d prefer it,” was Thor’s easy response, and then, “and I’d prefer you stay awhile.”

Foggy toed off his shoes, biting the insides of his cheeks before making his way to Thor’s living room. 

*

The next morning, Foggy woke up slowly and surrounded by an unfamiliar, if comfortable, blanket. The cushions of the couch beneath his spine were soft and he was grateful for it; he didn’t remember there being a pillow on Thor’s furniture the day prior, but he could feel one beneath his head as he drifted toward consciousness, and he breathed in deeply as to not suffocate on the thick swell of emotion in his chest.

His shirt smelled undeniably male and different, and Foggy might be in trouble. In reality, he knew that he was probably beyond the threshold of _might,_ had probably crossed that line in the sand the night prior, even before nodding off on Thor’s couch in the middle of watching a movie, Thor stretched out across the loveseat on the other side of the room. Before Thor had offered Foggy one of his t-shirts to wear when Thor had suggested a movie. _“Something more comfortable, you’re making me itch with all of those buttons.”_

Foggy had wondered for a moment if it was normal to wear the clothing of someone you’d only met three times as he’d changed from his collared button up into Thor’s gray cotton t-shirt. The shirt hung loosely on him, nearly exposing his collar bone, and it was so fucking _comfortable_ and smelled so fucking _good_ that Foggy had decided that, even if it were socially weird on Earth, Thor wasn’t from Earth, so fuck social graces. 

After all, they had been hanging out all day, regardless of intention. Foggy hadn’t planned on spending the day at Thor’s place, but hadn’t had anything else happening that day. No active cases, Karen at the office fielding calls and setting appointments, and he was no longer being cajoled into working the counter at the deli. His free day had made it easy to join Thor for an early lunch; had made it pointless to argue against joining him for a walk to the farmer’s market down the street to pick up groceries; had made it ridiculously simple to help chop vegetables for the stir fry that Thor made them for dinner. 

Another thing that came to them uncomplicated and unimpeded? Conversation. Even when uncomfortable at times, words flowed between them in a way that reminded Foggy of talking with Karen, and even with Matty...which took him aback in a way that he wasn’t sure was bad. Jokes, stories about Foggy and Matty in college, Thor’s escapades as a centuries-old teenager. The annoyance of dealing with other attorneys and Thor raising his voice repeatedly about some obnoxious-sounding asshole named Quill. 

Though, there were other moments that were harder to navigate, moments that came up around corners sneakily and pounced upon them unexpectedly. Foggy didn’t quite know what to do with them, so he let them go, but - as he lay awake with his eyes closed to the morning light- he replayed them in his head, searching for a solution, _problem solving_.

_“How the hell do you keep this place so clean, man? I live alone too, but I feel like there’s always a layer of dust on everything I own.”_

_“I didn’t quite… take the best care of my last home. It is not my intention to let this home return to that state.”_

_“Fuck; this is delicious, but there’s no way I can eat this much food. You want the rest of mine?”_

_“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed your meal! I’ll pack the rest away. I try not to overindulge as much. Your eyes don’t deceive you, Foggy; I’m not the man I once was, but I am making an effort.”_

_Mumbled, as Thor brought out a blanket and turned the lights out in the living room, looking soft and fuzzy around the edges, again covering his face with his right hand; “You don’t have to cover up for my sake, Thor.”_

_“I thank you, but I- I don’t want to talk about it. Goodnight, my friend.”_

“My friend,” Foggy whispered to himself out loud, tasting the words, thinking about how they still made his stomach flip as he thought about them being spoken to him, by the God in the other room.

“Good morning, Foggy! You’re awake!”

...same room. The God in the _same_ room. 

Foggy opened his eyes and craned his neck, finding Thor dressed in jeans and a long sleeved shirt, slipping on a pair of boots near the door. Brain catching up, Foggy nearly fell off the couch in his haste to get moving. 

“Whoa. No need to hurry yourself. I’ve been summoned for a job upstairs, an issue with the wiring.” Thor finished tying his boot and reached for something near the door; Foggy felt stupid and slack-jawed as Thor grasped Mjolnir in his hands, swinging the hammer lightly by his side. “It should not take me long, you’re welcome to stay or, of course, to go.” Thor seemed hesitant then, and Foggy managed to make it up into a standing position. 

“Hey, thanks for letting me crash. Yesterday was a blast, and I know you didn’t sign up for hanging out with a nerdy law dude all day, so-”

“You don’t have to be kind, Foggy.” Thor’s voice was stern and lacked feeling, dousing Foggy like a bucket of ice water. “I know the work that you and Matthew do is important to the people of this city, and I should not have monopolized your time because of my… loneliness.” Thor’s eyes widened, his left more so than his right. “Don’t mistake what I mean as me saying I kept you here because I was lonely. I was, but you are also excellent company. I feel… like I am failing at this. Banner would be hiding his face in his hands if he were here to hear this conversation.” 

Foggy raised his eyebrows. “Banner. Bruce Banner?”

Thor nodded. “He is a great friend of mine.”

Foggy laughed dryly. “See, you’re friends with the Hulk and you’re apologizing to me for monopolizing my time? I don’t… nope. Executive decision being made by the Earthling in the room. This? Hanging out with you. Aces. Super fun. Would do again, hope to do again soon. Did you have fun?”

Thor nodded. “You put me at ease. It has been some time since I’ve felt at ease. Life has been lacking without friendship and laughter. I did have a friendship with the Rabbit and Tree, but it is different with a human.” 

Foggy wasn’t sure if it was due to his perplexity at Thor’s statement, the early morning hour or simply because the gesture itself was unexpected, but when Thor reached forward to untangle the ponytail holder from Foggy’s sleep-mussed hair Foggy leaned forward and simply let him. Thor made quick work of the task, using both hands to free Foggy’s long strands, handing over the tie as soon as it was released. Thor pushed Foggy’s hair back over his shoulder and Foggy felt it tickle his back above the thin cotton fabric of Thor’s shirt, which still hung loosely on his frame, and the absurdity of the situation hit him full force then and he stumbled backward. 

“Well, uh, thank you. For everything, I mean. The food, the company. I’m pretty solidly sure I drooled on your pillow, so thank you for _that_ sacrifice. I’m going to change and head home; I have to be in court this afternoon. But. You have my number, and I know where you live, and I guess next time I can be a normal person and just text you instead of showing up at your door and then crashing on your couch without asking?”

Thor smiled, the whites of his teeth showing. “You can show up at my door whenever you please, and consider my couch made for crashing. I hope to see you soon, Foggy. Perhaps next time I can bring you some ale as a gift, to your home? That is in line with custom?”

Foggy grinned. “It can be, because that sounds badass. I’ll hold you to that, dude, so don’t try to take it back.”

Thor winked before stepping out of his apartment, leaving Foggy alone to have a very short and mindful anxiety attack about how hard his heart was pounding in his chest and how badly he had wanted Thor to bury his giant hands into his hair for a split second. 

Composure mostly regained, Foggy quickly changed his shirt, folded his blanket and Thor’s t-shirt, stacking them on the end of the couch along with the Randomly Appearing Pillow, and dug into his messenger bag for his tube of chapstick. Once in his hands, Foggy took the chapstick, the forgotten twenty dollar bill, and his own shit eating grin into Thor’s bathroom. A minute later he stepped out, slipped on his shoes, collected his bag and headed home to change. 

*

It wasn’t two hours later when Foggy’s phone buzzed in his pocket as he was heading into the courthouse. He hit the fuzzy image to download the picture before checking who it was from, because he was _a fucking idiot, honestly dude, c’mon,_ and then stopped just short of clutching his phone to his chest and humming in joy to himself when the picture came into focus. 

It was a picture of Thor’s bathroom mirror, the twenty dollar bill hung square in the center, stuck with a bandaid, the words _“Here’s lookin’ at you, handsome”_ written in chapstick on the mirror itself. As far as problem-solving went, if anyone knew about battling self-esteem demons ,it was Foggy fuckin’ Nelson; he knew one compliment wasn’t a fix-all, but the smile on Thor’s face in the reflection of the mirror made Foggy wonder if maybe he couldn’t be a force for good, here.

The text message that came along with the picture simply read _“If war is what you wanted, Franklin Nelson, war is what you shall receive,”_ and Foggy had to hide his smile for the duration of Matty’s opening statements.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was DELAYED, to say the least. Life is extremely hectic, and I am so grateful to find myself in Foggy's brain as a reprieve. 
> 
> Another giant thank you to FadedSepia, who makes every chapter not only readable, but better. Also, I most certainly did not pluck the idea of Matt Murdock, Jessica Jones and Clint Barton having poker nights out of my own head; do yourself a favor and go read FadedSepia's [The Perils of Powered People](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578896/chapters/51448648).
> 
> Also, there's a chapter count now. It might take me forever to get there, but I'm not sorry :)
> 
> Enjoy!

“Is there a reason why you sound like you might go into cardiac arrest? Should I be worried?” 

Matty’s voice belied the fact that he already sounded a little bit worried, and Foggy bit back a snide remark because there _simply wasn’t time for his shenanigans._

“Thor’s here. Well, almost here. He just texted me...speaking of which, does anyone want coffee?” Foggy held his phone up and waved it around dazedly, nearly dropping it at Karen’s sudden trilling from her front desk. 

“He’s coming _here?_ Oh, my God!”

“That’s heresy,” Foggy said lamely, at the same time as Matt opened his dumb mouth and teased, “You better watch out, Karen, I think our Foggy here has already laid claim to this particular god.”

“Matty-!” Foggy bit out, dropping his phone on his desk and turning to face Matt’s desk head on. Matt sat there, hands behind his head, shit-eating grin spreading slow as molassas. 

“Yeah, Fog?”

Foggy felt his face heating up. It was no use; even if Matt _couldn’t_ hear his heart doing cartwheels in his chest or see his body temperature skyrocketing or smell his...whatever doing...something… _goddammit Matt that is such an invasion of privacy…_ it wouldn’t make a bit of difference because all Foggy had been able to talk about to either of them for weeks had been Thor. It had taken all of four and a half minutes for Karen and Matt to start asking about wedding plans and four minutes and thirty-four seconds for Foggy to start lamenting over how much he hated his two best friends. 

“...do you or don’t you want any coffee, you prick? He’s asking,” Foggy mumbled, and Matt’s grin was now a _smirk_ and _ugh._

“No, no, I wouldn’t want to hold him up. I’m sure you’re eager to see him; far be it from me to keep the two of you apart.”

Karen snorted from the front of the office. Foggy sat down at his desk and groaned into his hands. 

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, man.”

Foggy lifted his phone back up for a few seconds to let Thor know to come right up, thank you, nobody wants coffee, sweet of him to ask. And then? Then the panic started to settle in. 

“Karen! Karen, Karen, Karen.” Foggy stood abruptly, making his way to where Karen was sitting and now turned toward him, one brow slanted in and one raised in his direction. 

“On a scale of me on a typical day when I haven’t slept the night before and the AC is busted, to Matt looking somehow well assembled and cool as a cucumber, how much of a visual mess am I right now?” Foggy held his arms out, feeling the sweat beneath his armpits grow instantly cold once exposed to the air. The AC had been down for nearly three days and it was _sweltering_ , the kind of heat that made Foggy long for beaches, sand in his hair and saltwater in his mouth. Which also meant that his hair was somehow both frizzy and limp, his button-up was stained with sweat, and he was willing to bet money that his cheeks were pink. 

Karen eyed him quickly; top to bottom and side to side. “Lose your overshirt and take your hair down. Do you have a brush?” As though she were somehow able to predict his answer before he answered, she had already started reaching down into her own bag, procuring a small hair brush within a matter of seconds. 

Foggy took it from her gratefully. “Thank you. I didn’t expect you to have one of these just laying around. Your hair never looks out of place, why do you have this? Or - or - is it because you have this?”

Karen rolled her eyes. “I keep it around for you, the jerk in the other room, and Kate when she needs it. I’m surrounded by human disasters; I have a pharmacy in my bag, Foggy.”

Foggy couldn’t help but grin as he pulled his ponytail holder from his hair and started to untangle the mass of dark blonde waves, pulling the brush through as though he were forcing a living creature into submission. “So you called her? How is the scary Hawkeye?”

Karen’s cheeks livened with a lovely red stain, her white front teeth gripping her bottom lip as she tried to reign in a smile of her own. It was all she needed to say (or not?), and Foggy felt a bubble of happiness threatening to burst within his ribcage. 

“Can you two stop being disgustingly sweet and in love for two seconds? You’re making me feel left out,” Matt called before Foggy heard rather than saw him come into the room, still busy brushing out his hair, eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

It was Karen who snorted. “Oh, please, Mr. ‘I typically have one-to-three people pining over me at any given second.’ Can you not just let us bask? Foggy and I deserve to bask. Marci is basking, I’m sure Frank is basking - or brooding, not that I care - and so Foggy and I are going to bask which means that _you_ should bask with us because you are our friend, asshole.”

Though Karen was being heavily sarcastic, silence fell over the three of them, Foggy more surprised to hear Karen bring up Frank than Marci. Marci had started dating someone in her new firm (Foggy had met the guy, he was nice if not obnoxious and _too good looking_ for Foggy’s taste) and Foggy was happy for her, genuinely. That aside, Karen hadn’t uttered a word about Frank Castle since the day he had been dusted, which had happened to be the same day Karen and he were supposed to have met for their first official date. 

All three of them knew he had returned with the rest. He hadn’t come back, or let himself be found. So, yes, Karen deserved to fucking bask. 

Matt cleared his throat. “Right, yeah. 10-4, loud and clear. Basking has officially commenced. Karen, you should bring Kate around for dinner next Sunday. You think your Ma would mind, Fog?”

Foggy’s mind drifted back to an offhand comment he had made to Kate a few weeks back, and cruel delight flared up in his chest. “Nope. She’d be happy to pull up another chair. Just say the word.”

Karen made a face, taking her brush back from Foggy, who flipped his hair over his shoulders, letting it fall back unrestricted. “Maybe soon, but not that soon. We’ve barely hung out and she still...kinda…”

“Scares you half to death?” Foggy suggested.

Karen nodded, face turning somehow even darker, and both Foggy and Matt laughed for a solid half-minute before she finally cracked and joined in as well. Matt stopped mid-chuckle and very abruptly, his head cocking to the side, and Foggy’s heart rabbited. 

“Your visitor is here, Fog,” Matt said, and Foggy’s mouth went dry. 

_Don’t be stupid, jackass. You’re friends. Friends visit each other, drop in and say hi, see each other in person instead of just texting all the time or playing Xbox at three in the morning. You already slept on his couch. And in his clothes. He texted you on a Sunday at seven am asking if he could bleach smoothie out of polyester. Grow a pair, Nelson._

“You’ve got sweat stains,” Karen hissed lowly, as though Thor had super-hearing and could make out what she was saying from the first floor….and oh, fuck, but did he, could he?

“My undershirt is sleeveless!” Foggy bit back, hands going to the top button of his shirt but simply resting there, unsure. “Who the fuck would just be hanging out in khakis and a black tank top in the middle of the work day in a law office?!”

Karen’s eyes widened, but only for a moment. “Yeah, okay, but does _he_ know that? Would that be weird on, like, Old Asgard or whatever?”

Oh. Right. 

“But...my arms,” Foggy faltered, already unbuttoning, well aware that he was on the verge of whining. “You know how fucking much I hate my upper arms.” Foggy peeled off his dress shirt and balled it up, holding it in one fisted hand while untucking his undershirt with his other. 

“Franklin Nelson, I’ll skin you myself,” Karen said in a sweet whisper, just as the office door swung open gently. Foggy felt a surge of protectiveness, appreciation, _adoration_ for her and Matty both (Matty, who was still leaning like a stalker weirdo against the frame of the front office as though supervising their conversation). He tossed his dress shirt under Karen’s desk, not paying attention to where it landed, and straightened up just in time to watch Thor step inside the office of Nelson, Murdock, & Page. 

If he were a fly on the wall in that moment, the second when their gazes locked (or, he supposed, if he were Karen or Matty), Foggy imagined that it was probably hilarious. He felt his own eyes widen even as he watched Thor’s do the same. Foggy couldn’t pull his eyes from Thor’s face, and therefore was privy to the movement of Thor’s eyes as they flicked over Foggy from top to bottom and back again quickly, before Thor beamed. 

“It’s wonderful to see you again, Foggy-”

“You shaved your beard!”

Matt _facepalmed_. He did quietly and without flair, but Foggy could see it in his periphery, and, therefor, it still counted; murder was fair game later. 

Later. Much later. Because Foggy had a _jaw_ to marvel over. 

A well-groomed stubble still graced Thor’s face, sure, but it was a far cry from the long, braided or tied facial hair that Thor had sported the first few times he and Foggy had seen each other in recent weeks. With Thor’s hair pulled back from his face in what appeared to be one long, thick braid, and the absence of the thick beard, Foggy felt like he was seeing more of his friend than he had ever seen before. It was hard, remembering to breathe. 

Thor brought a hand to his scruff, rubbing his fingers over his jaw. “I did! It was time for a change. What do you think; was it a good choice? Don’t be deceptive, I can handle your honest opinion.”

“You look -” a few choice words caught in Foggy’s throat, and he cleared them away. “Good, Thor, really good. Damn, if I could pull off a five o’clock shadow like that, I swear.”

Thor’s beam turned into something so bright and burning that Foggy had to glance away, and so he looked at Karen, who was staring at him expectantly. _Right_. 

“Oh! Shit, I’m rude. Thor, this is Karen, she’s our...well, on paper she’s our office manager, but in reality she runs the place, and she’s a good friend. Karen, this is,” Foggy met Thor’s eyes again, the surreality of the moment settling beneath his skin, “Thor Odinson.”

Thor made his way to them in two long strides, meeting Karen where she had stood and taking her hand in his. Foggy watched the way his hand engulfed hers; his fingers twitched at his side. 

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Odinson. I mean, you must hear it all the time, but it’s just so awesome. You’re such a hero. And beside, anyone who gets this one,” Karen jerked her head over to Foggy before taking her hand back from Thor, “feeling good and happy is good in my book.”

Foggy blinked, and it was a long blink. He promised himself in the three seconds while his eyes were closed that he _wouldn’t_ be killing Karen when Thor left. Swore it to himself, even. 

“Karen, call me Thor. And thank you, but the honor is all mine. A friend of Foggy’s is a friend of mine. Though it is good to hear about the -” Thor gesticulated, seemingly randomly, “feeling happy and good. Thank you, for that.” 

Actually, Foggy wouldn’t be able to murder Matty _or_ Karen later, because he would be a puddle on the office floor by then, something for the building crew to mop up during the night. 

“And Matthew!” Thor all but bellowed, and Christ, how did he get his voice to carry like that? “It’s good to see you again, the Daredevil himself! How have you been since making your way back to Midgard? From what I’ve gathered from our friend, you were sorely missed and the city is better for your return.” Thor smiled and nodded at Karen before stepping aside, making his way toward Matt and shuffling by Foggy in the process. He smelled like soap, sandalwood and sweat, with a hint of something that Foggy couldn’t place. Half delirious over the fact that Thor had just referred to him as _our friend_ to Matt, Foggy wondered if the scent was something alien; space stuck to his flesh or flecks of gold in his blood. 

Foggy would ask Matty later what Thor smelled like. It wouldn’t be weird. _It wouldn’t._

“Good to see you yourself, Thor,” Matt said, all charming smiles as he extended his hand. “And it’s good to be back. Strange, adjusting the best I can, playing catch-up, you know. The same I’m sure you hear from most of us. Glad to be back on patrol, but from the sounds of it Karen and Foggy here seem to have had the place on pretty good lockdown.” Matt’s smile turned a bit more feral then, something that Thor certainly may not have noticed, and maybe not even Karen, but it made Foggy’s blood run cold. “Our _friend_ Foggy here was quite the hero himself. Keeps on being, if I’m honest, the ‘super’ notwithstanding. You should consider yourself lucky to have come across him.” Matt’s knuckles turned briefly white where he squeezed Thor’s hand in his before dropping the handshake. “Our Foggy here deserves only the best. Isn’t that right, Karen?”

“It sure is,” Karen was quick to agree, and before Foggy could swoop in to assure Thor that no, his best friends absolutely were not implying that Foggy was too good for him, nor were they making any kind of vague threats of harm, Thor let out a low chuckle. 

“This sounds awfully similar to a chat I once had with a young woman named Darcy. She referred to it as a ‘shovel talk,’ I believe?” Thor glanced over to Foggy, an eyebrow raised, along with one side of his mouth in a half-smirk. “I can’t say that I was expecting one of these today, but I will say that our - your - Foggy does deserve the best. You won’t find an argument out of me, there.” Thor hadn’t broken eye contact with Foggy as he spoke, and if he didn’t escape those iris’ and that _voice_ he was going to, to…

“Okay, welp, now that my two ex-best-friends have made this a sufficiently awkward meeting of the minds, why don’t you let me show you into my office riiiiight over this way so that we can make plans to hang out? Without them? Because they are not being the best and don’t deserve to be graced by a God right now so, yeah, just - this way…” Foggy jumped into action, lightly taking Thor by the elbow to guide him as he passed by. Thor was in a t-shirt and his skin was warm beneath Foggy’s fingers, compliant as he moved with Foggy easily, shooting a small wave at both Matt and Karen in order to follow Foggy down the short hallway to his office. 

Just as Foggy pulled him inside the open doorway, Matt’s voice met them where they stood. “Hey, Thor? If it’s not too much to ask, I was really kind of curious about something.”

Foggy and Thor both paused and turned to look at Matt, who was half visible and leaning against the door frame up front. 

“Yes, Matthew?”

“First, call me Matt if you would. Second, as an Asguardian, does your heart beat much slower or faster than us humans?” Foggy, from where he was standing beside Thor as they peeked out of his office, shot Matt a glare. 

Thor seemed to think nothing of the question. “I believe the doctor that Stark used to keep on our staff, Dr. Cho, once told me that my heart rate was somewhat slower than those of the rest of the team, aside from Captain Rogers. Do matters of the heart interest you?”

Matt smirked. “You could say that, Thor, thanks. Enjoy your visit with Fog!” He disappeared out of view and Foggy resisted dipping back out of his office to beat the smirk off of Matty's face in favor of joining Thor in taking a seat, Foggy behind his desk and Thor pulling up a client chair. 

“I like your office,” Thor said, blue eye wandering, the other remaining still. “You and your friends must pride yourself in your work.” 

Foggy nodded, feeling himself relax a touch now that it was just the two of them together; his hair fell over his shoulders, tickling his collarbones and upper arms. “We do. You should’ve seen our first office. It was a hellhole, and come to think of it, I’m glad you didn’t see it.”

Thor chuckled. “I’m sure I would have been just as enamoured.” 

Foggy’s heart double-thumped at the word, and he felt saved from the moment by his phone buzzing in his pocket. 

**MATTY M.**  
_His heart goes all kinds of crazy around you_

“Stop spying on people, you creepy stalker fuck,” Foggy whispered under his breath, positive that Matt could hear him and shaking his head when Thor’s eyebrow popped up. “Nothing, don’t worry. Just Matt, thinking he’s hilarious.” Foggy made a show of opening his desk drawer, tossing his phone inside and slamming it closed _with flair_. “Anyway. This is a pleasant surprise! You said you were just...in the area? What brings you to our humble block of Hell’s Kitchen this brutal afternoon?”

Thor’s sight honed in on Foggy and he fell silent, as though thinking on the question, which hung in the air for five seconds, then ten, eleven, twelve…

“I was in the area, yes. I wanted to see you.” 

Foggy froze. 

Thor leaned forward in his chair, hands on his knees. If Foggy knew any better, he would have sworn that Thor looked...apprehensive. 

“This is ridiculous!” Thor proclaimed suddenly, loud enough to make Foggy jump. Thor let out a small laugh and ran a hand over his face. “You are” -Thor pointed a large finger directly at Foggy from across the desk- “some kind of wizard.”

“...no?” Foggy said. “Uh, no.”

“I want to take you on a riverside stroll,” Thor said, and it was a _statement,_ bold and something decided. Thor nodded and his face cleared, not a trace of apprehension left to linger. “Yes, that is what I would like. Would you like that?”

Foggy’s head tilted to the side and his mind raced a mile a minute, trying to play catch up, trying to figure out _what the actual fuck was happening._

“I’m sorry. I have a - no. I have multiple questions. First, did you just accuse me of being a wizard?”

Thor grinned, and Foggy leaned back in his chair, unable to stop himself from smiling stupidly back because Thor was grinning? Goddamn. 

“You have me under some kind of spell, my friend. These… nerves should only be reserved for battle, not for conversation.”

Foggy’s stomach clenched in delight. “You were nervous to ask me to take a walk with you?”

“I believe I asked you to accompany me on a riverside stroll.”

“And that leads me to my second question. What does that mean? Like,” Foggy crossed his arms over his chest, was met with the reminder that he was displaying _so much skin_ by doing so, and promptly uncrossed them, “is that literal, or does that mean something different on Asgard?”

Thor eyed him without blinking, and Foggy’s breath caught when the God stood up and crossed the short distance to the other side of the desk. Thor loomed over Foggy for only a brief moment before settling into a half-sitting, half-leaning position on Foggy’s oak desk, the nicest fucking thing that Foggy had ever owned (well, it had been the nicest thing he had ever owned, _but it was even nicer now_ ). 

“On Asgard, one might simply look for a telling braid in a man’s hair, or an item of jewelry or at times a tattoo to know if they might welcome advances from-” Thor’s voice, a low timbre, wavered, and he looked past Foggy then, “another man.” He cleared his throat. “Here, I’ve noticed that it’s either very easy to know who may be open to the thought, or near impossible. So of course, when it comes to the first Midgardian man to catch my eye in the slightest, it would be one who is infuriatingly impossible to read.”

Foggy _couldn’t breathe._

“You have got to be shitting me,” came spilling out of his mouth before he could catch it, before he could stop to think, and a flicker of doubt winced across Thor’s features and Foggy reached out as though he could wipe it away. His hand landed on Thor’s forearm instead, skin hot beneath Foggy’s palm. 

“No! Christ, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant it like I can’t believe ‘a riverside stroll’ actually means what I thought it might mean, as in you’re asking me to, ah, take a stroll with you. By a river, or water, or something around here...in a non-platonic way, so it would seem, and for a second there I thought my brain was shorting out, but then you just said the things, and if you tell me where to put the dude-interested-in-dude-action braid in my hair I will do that thing because I would very much like to go on a walk in the park with you, dude. River. Fuck.” Foggy clamped his mouth shut, his own rambling making its way to his ears, his face burning, and disbelief still sinking in. And because he had never quite mastered the art of keeping his mouth shut, only a beat passed before his voice filled the room yet again. 

“But are you sure? Because have you seen you?”

A small shock of electricity jolted beneath Foggy’s fingers, and he snatched his hand away from Thor’s arm, locking eyes with him in quiet surprise. Thor himself looked taken aback, as though his own reaction to Foggy’s statement was unexpected; rather than apologizing, however, Thor tilted forward and, using both hands, slowly pushed Foggy’s long locks back from off of his shoulders, revealing his arms, collarbones, and most of his upper body. 

Foggy’s initial physical response was to shrink back, wanting to cover the pieces of himself that made him feel self-conscious beneath Thor’s scrutiny...which wasn’t looking much like scrutiny, not to Foggy, not in that moment. Thor’s gaze swept from Foggy’s hairline and down his face, his throat and body, and Thor’s fingers grazed the tops of his shoulders. 

Foggy’s body broke out first in goosebumps, followed moments later by shudders as Thor’s vast hands spread across the globes of his shoulders, inching down his brachium on either side. 

“I’ve seen _you_ ,” Thor said, so close that Foggy could feel the words spoken in the air between them, “and I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you in my clothes. Wondering if you would feel as tantalizing as you look.” Thor’s thumbs brushed over Foggy’s skin, leaving fire in their wake, and somehow Foggy managed a single word in spite of being on the verge of melting. 

“And?”

The briefest flash of white light made itself known in Thor’s gaze before he squeezed Foggy’s arms and let go, tilting back and away until he was again half sitting on Foggy’s desk. 

“And you’ve not ceased to amaze me yet, my friend. Hudson River, Saturday night? I do believe I owe you a pack of ale at your place, after all.”

*

It had taken nearly an hour to convince Matty that he wasn’t going to die of heart failure after Thor left the office not long after they cemented their plans for the weekend, and Foggy was grateful for it, truth be told, because it had given him the opportunity to convince _himself_ of the same. He was floating around the office for the rest of the afternoon; unconvinced that the whole conversation with Thor had actually happened until he was reminded by the occasional jolts in his stomach or butterflies in his chest. He couldn’t even be upset by Matty’s teasing or Karen’s catcalls and sly comments about how his “gunshow” had paid off, Matt having been an asshole and spilling everything he’d overheard to Karen, meaning that of course Foggy had needed to share every detail to fill in the blanks. 

Needed to. Wanted to. Felt compelled to. All the same, really. 

Just as they were leaving the office together, nearing nightfall, Karen tapped Foggy on his back before they parted ways. When he turned to face her, he was met with a crumpled twenty dollar bill being waved around in his face. 

“I was instructed not to give this to you until we left for the night. I think your boyfriend wanted to make sure you wouldn’t try to give it back. I was tempted to keep it, but I have a feeling that it would have been missed.” Karen plunked it into Foggy’s waiting palm with a wink and turned to saunter off. 

“Thanks, Karen! G’night!” Foggy called, staring at the money in his hand, smile playing on his lips. 

“Night Foggy!” Came Karen’s call back, followed by an overlapping “Sleep well, Mr. Odinson!” from Matt. 

“Fuck you very much, Murdock, ya creep!” Foggy called, turning to head toward his apartment as he slipped the twenty into his pocket.

Midway into his walk home, Foggy realized he was whistling. For the first time in nearly six years, he whistled as he walked, and didn’t give a damn who overheard.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Have nearly 2.7k words of PRE-stroll along the river nonsense because I just love the thought of these two being awkward in rooms together. 
> 
> As ever, I owe FadedSepia so many baked goods and teas for being the best beta in the land. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> -EP

“Hi. I didn’t know what to wear. You, though… you look _amazing._ ” 

Foggy groaned internally as the words slipped from his lips, amazed that he had already managed to make an idiot out of himself mere seconds after opening the door to welcome Thor into his apartment. Not that anything he’d said had been a lie; he really hadn’t known what to wear and had tossed on his nicest pair of khakis and a short sleeved, button-up violet shirt at the last second. He stood there, hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, feeling like a _normal human dude_ while Thor looked like a goddamn _prize_.

Thor smiled from where he stood in the doorway and pushed a six pack of craft beer toward Foggy. “Thank you. I find myself expressing basically identical sentiments, I must say. I’m glad you find this,” Thor motioned to his clothes, “appropriate for our stroll. As I’d mentioned, adjusting to Midgard customs and all has been proving to be, well.”

“A pain in the ass?” Foggy asked, taking the beer from Thor and motioning for him to follow as Foggy stepped into the small kitchen of his apartment, just off of the main entrance. Thor did so, closing the door behind him, and toeing off his shoes in the process. Foggy smiled at the sight; it was surreal, seeing a God take off a pair of shoes, revealing socked feet before following Foggy into the kitchen. 

Foggy took two of the beers out of the six pack and stashed the rest in the fridge, moving around his kitchen with ease as he popped the caps off. Thor graciously accepted one, tipping the bottle to clink it against the neck of Foggy’s own in a semblance of a toast. 

“Hmm. To a god’s honest river stroll?” Foggy toasted, cocking an eyebrow. 

Thor smiled and raised his bottle. “Hear, hear!” A small quiet settled over them as they both drank; Thor deeply, Foggy less so, but only just. 

“Well damn,” Foggy said, eyeing the label. “That, my friend, is a quality brew. Thank you for your generosity.”

“And you for your hospitality. I’m eager to see your home, to finally be on equal footing,” Thor said, glancing around at the details of the tiny room. Foggy felt his face heat, and moved immediately to playing it off with humor. 

“Well, I would offer you the grand tour, but you can basically see the whole place from here. Kitchen, living room, down the hallway there’s my room on the left, second bedroom which I’ve managed to turn into what I like to pretend is an office but is really a half-assed storage space at the end of the hall, bathroom on the right. When the fam, Matty or Karen come over we usually eat in the living room, or there’s a little table on the other side of this counter, here, in what the complex calls a dining nook, but I think I could probably sue them for false advertisement. Uh… I do have a balcony! Which I should have led with, because that’s the best part.” Realizing that he was, perhaps, rambling due to nerves ( _perhaps? Get real, bud._ ), Foggy looked up at Thor, lopsided grin on his face. 

“Sorry. I’m really nervous. How does beer on the balcony sound before we head out for the evening?”

Thor simply stood in the middle of Foggy’s kitchen, beer in one hand with the other wrapped around his midsection. He was wearing black jeans that hugged his thighs and calves; a loose-fitting grey v-neck shirt beneath a comfortable unbuttoned black blazer with sleeves that came to an end midway down his forearms. Foggy could barely stand to look at him, this man in his kitchen who wasn’t a man at all; this God with a body that Foggy _ached_ to touch, soft curves met with hard muscle, stories of battle, loss and determination, layers wrapped up in flesh and blood and glory. Foggy knew that he wasn’t gazing at the same body that Thor had bonded with over more than a thousand years, that this body was one new to him; Foggy wanted to find the words to express to Thor just how glorious he found not only his physicality to be, but how enraptured he was by _this Thor_ , the socked Asgardian on Midgard standing in his kitchen.

“I would like to see your bedroom,” Thor said after a moment of consideration, and Foggy choked on nothing. 

Apparently unaware of Foggy’s struggle for air, Thor continued. “I find myself curious about where you sleep. Is it a strange thing to be curious about? Now that I’m thinking back, you didn’t seem all too interested in seeing my sleeping quarters when you visited my home, and you seem rather flustered by my request, so I’m wondering if this is one of those customs that the internet failed to tell me not to intrude upon.”

 _Knowing that he was Googling conversational protocol for this is not helping me remember how to respirate like a fucking normal person,_ Foggy thought to himself, clearing his throat and waving a hand about, trying to divert Thor’s faux pas. 

“It’s fine! So, okay. It’s. Saying out loud that you would like to see someone’s bedroom, especially when you’re getting ready to go on a d- when you’re preparing for a stroll, or any other kind of-”

“During a date,” Thor supplied helpfully. 

Foggy’s heart rabbitted wildly in his chest; his phone would surely ping with a text from Matty any second now. “Yes. Saying out loud that you would like to see someone’s bedroom, especially during a date - so, this, the stroll, we’re using that word. This is a date?”

Thor leaned backward against the doorway of the kitchen and crossed one ankle over the other, smiling softly at Foggy. “You’re adorable.”

“Hnng. Okay. Yes. And th-thank you. Fuck, you’re distracting, is what you are. Anyway! Saying the thing about the bedroom while on a date would typically be a good indicator that you’re dropping a pretty heavy hint that you’re wanting to-” Foggy froze, because his brain hadn’t supplemented the next words of his explanation quite yet, hadn’t offered how to tell Thor that he had, in essence, since he was on Earth, accidentally indicated that he wanted to take Foggy to bed.

Luckily, Thor caught on rather quickly, judging by the sudden flush that graced his cheeks. “Oh! My apologies! The spluttering makes much more sense, now. That would have been incredibly presumptuous and forward of me, on our first date no less.” 

“Ah. Glad you caught on to the spluttering,” Foggy said weakly, covering his face with one hand. 

Thor laughed. “Foggy, please. I mean no harm. Thank you for explaining. I fear that I may be somewhat awkward at times. In my only other previous Midgard romantic relationship, things happened very quickly and during a very heated time, under much duress. There wasn’t really time for courting, or getting to know one another properly. I find myself… ignorant. But willing to learn!” Thor tacked on the last part with haste, and oh, but Foggy was _so enamored_ by this point that he found he didn’t even know what to do with himself in his own kitchen. 

“It’s really, really no problem, Thor,” Foggy promised. “If you want, I can show you my bedroom? I have no idea what kinds of answers you’ll find in there, but make yourself at home.” Foggy motioned for Thor to go on ahead and was grateful when he took the opportunity and ran with it, ducking out of the kitchen. Foggy took a moment to himself to breathe easily and deeply, grounding himself before following along. 

Foggy’s room was nothing special; a full size bed with a simple headboard and navy blue bedding, a wooden nightstand with a lamp and a matching dresser pushed up against the wall. One bookshelf in the corner, packed with books of varying shapes, sizes, and genres; a small television mounted to the wall with a shelf beneath it, holding a cable box and gaming system. A record player in the corner (one of the only hand-me-downs in Foggy’s possession thus far), and a small, doorless closet. 

Foggy stood in the doorway and watched Thor as he walked slowly around the small room as though taking in details that didn’t exist. He spent an inordinate amount of time at Foggy’s bookshelf, cocking his head to read cracked spines or stacked volumes. When he reached the window, Thor used his fingers to push aside the curtain, and Foggy sucked in a breath at the way the light caught his amber eye from the side. 

_Oh, I am so thoroughly fucked._

“On Asgard, most of us lived in very open living quarters,” Thor spoke, pausing to take a swig from his bottle. “Big, sprawling rooms, with fireplaces and living areas on one side, areas for games or arts or reading against another wall, and our beds in a far corner. Most of the time we had our wardrobes partitioned off with these dividers - I haven’t oft seen them here in America, but I did see something similar when we were on a mission once, in Tokyo, do you know what I speak of?”

Foggy nodded. “I do. Room screens, with the panels, the ones that fold?”

Thor snapped his fingers, shot Foggy a small smile as he stepped away from the window. “Precisely!” Thor turned to begin walking back around Foggy’s bed, stopping at Foggy’s dresser to glance at the items on top; watches, cuff links, ties and the like. “I miss that, I find. The openness, the camaraderie. The general feeling of sharing with your brethren, your fellow warriors or friends. Things are different here, sectioned off and very private.”

Foggy’s heart beat with something new; a deeper understanding of what Thor’s experience on Earth must be like, since the loss of his home world. Foggy took that moment and its details in with as much clarity as possible, feeling honored to have had it shared with him. 

“Asgard sounds like it was spectacular,” Foggy said, truthfully. “The way you talk about it makes me glad that you had it, when you did.” 

Thor drew in a breath, gingerly picked up Foggy’s cologne from the top of his dresser. “Can I?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

Foggy smiled. “Go for it. It’s strong, so go easy.”

Thor sprayed a bit against the inside of his wrist and dabbed it against the pulse point of his throat; Foggy had the fleeting thought that it would be strange, smelling himself on Thor, and was immediately hit with a wave of _heat_ so overpowering that it was dizzying. 

“Aah, familiar!” Thor exclaimed, capping the bottle. “I have a couch that smells like this, wouldn’t you know.”

Foggy snorted into his beer. “Still? Do I have to pay for drycleaning? Can a couch _be_ drycleaned?”

Thor returned the bottle to its place on the dresser and walked toward Foggy, who backed out of the doorway to let him through. Thor stopped just before leaving the room, less than a foot between them. 

“It’s quite alright. I can think of many worse fragrances than you, to associate with my home. I might say that you’re overdue for another visit, if I’m being pushy about it.” Thor said, locking eyes with Foggy. Before Foggy could blurt out a response, Thor continued on. 

“Thank you, for your kind words about my home. Asgard and her people have a new ground and a new King, and they’re doing well. I do regret many things about her loss, most of all the devastating loss of many of our people, but not least of all the fact that I will never be able to show you my home. Asgard was beautiful, and so different than here that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to adequately describe it to you with words alone. That, to me in this moment, is a deep regret.” 

Foggy swallowed, throat burning. “Thor-” At a loss for words, Foggy did the only thing he could think to do, the tactile person that he was; he reached forward with his free hand, covering the back of Thor’s hand with his own, needing to make contact. 

Thor appeared to eagerly revel in it as well, transferring his bottle from his other hand to the one beneath Foggy’s in order to cover Foggy’s hand with his own; the easy way in which Thor’s splayed fingers blanketed Foggy’s hand ratcheted his pulse in an instant. 

“Thank you for sharing your space with me, Foggy, even though it was an odd request. It made me feel a little closer to home,” Thor said, and Foggy squeezed his hand. Thor stepped in a bit closer, leaned forward; his hair, long and loosely tucked behind his ears, came free, tickling Foggy’s cheek as he did so. 

“Just so that you’re aware, however, there will be no mistake; there will be no question, as I will make it quite clear when I intend to invite you into my bed.”

Foggy _whimpered_ and _clutched_ Thor’s hand, squeezing his eyes closed against the spike of want that raced up his spine at Thor’s words in his ear. He knew in that moment that he had just been privy to the Thor of legend; charming, confident, rightfully so. He opened his eyes only as he felt Thor step back and straighten, his hands starting to pull away from Foggy’s. 

_No. No? No._ Foggy’s defiant streak kicked in; two could play at this game.

Foggy set his beer on the floor, freeing up his other hand, and used it to keep Thor in place, completing the stack of their hands between them. 

“But what if,” Foggy said, breathless and challenging as he met Thor’s eyes, “what if I asked you into that bed, that one right there, first?” 

An electrical charge ran up Foggy’s fingers and into his palms and he jumped, grasping Thor harder rather than pulling away. Thor lost his grip on his bottle, which landed on the floor with a thud and dropped to its side, spilling a dribble. Foggy couldn’t have cared less if he’d tried.

“You magnificent bastard,” Foggy gasped, laughing in surprise, and it was his response that startled Thor into joining him, his own laughter echoing into the hallway. 

“You’re dangerous,” Thor accused, freeing his hands in order to pick up both of their beer bottles from the floor. The tension between them, all crackling and pressurized, started to ease, and Foggy breathed a bit easier. 

“Coming from you, God of Thunder, Mr. Zeus over here? - don’t give me that look, that was funny, yeah, I see your chin quivering, you can laugh, I won’t tell the god police - I’ll take that as a compliment.” Foggy followed Thor out of the hallway and into the living room, where the curtains were open, showing the pink and purple hues of twilight bleeding into the room. 

“Huh. We might wanna raincheck the beers on the balcony if we want to get that walk in. Whaddya think?”

Thor glanced out of the window for himself. “Great plan, my friend. I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks, I must say, even before asking you to accompany me, with the hopes that you would be agreeable. Now that it’s here, this stroll of ours, I hope I don’t bore you.”

Foggy, midway through slipping on his first sneaker, looked up at Thor, exasperated. 

“Thor?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you learned yet, in your studies of Earth customs, that when people tell you to shut up, sometimes it’s said rudely and sometimes it’s said fondly?”

“I think I’ve gotten to the point where I can tell the differ- ah. Yes, well. Noted.”

Foggy grinned to himself, and once Thor had readied himself for their outing ( _our date, ohmyGOD_ ), Foggy locked the door behind them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I must fall at the feet of my beta goddess, FadedSepia, for turning my ramblings into readable words. Any leftover errors or stray typos belong to me and my 3 a.m. brain cells. 
> 
> I fall at your feet as well, dearest reader, for being here and reading this odd little fic that exists in the rarepair corner of the internet. Your presence means the world to me!
> 
> I hope you enjoy,
> 
> EP

Their stroll was anything but boring. 

Foggy had assumed that Thor was many things, but had never really taken the time to consider that the god might be an expert storyteller. Throughout much of their walk by the water's edge, Thor regaled him with tales of his youth, of which there were many years to cover: Stories of war, kings, friends, lovers, and of course, Loki being an utter bastard. At times, Foggy caught a twinkle in Thor's eye when he talked about his brother; at other moments, only a dull ache. 

They were nearly an hour into their walk when Thor abruptly stopped talking to look down toward Foggy, a somewhat comical expression stretching across his features. “Have I been speaking this whole time?” Thor asked. “Why have you not stopped me?” 

Foggy could only grin. “Because I didn't want to? Because listening to you has been the highlight of my week, probably? And probably longer than that, if we're being honest.” A bright tinge of pink fluttered across Thor’s cheeks, and Foggy could tell that he was biting at the insides of them. The mere idea that Foggy could say anything to _please_ Thor to such an extent caused a thrill to inch up his spine. 

“Well,” Thor said after a moment, “it's rather unjust, you know. I would quite like to hear more about you as well.” They came to a stop at a park bench opposite the railings separating the sidewalk from the water. The sun had nearly disappeared below the horizon, and it seemed just as good a place as any for a break, for a moment to relax. 

Foggy took the lead in stepping to the bench in order to sit down, Thor following easily behind him. Thor settled in close to Foggy’s side, emanating warmth, and _Christ, I might be able to just snuggle on up there beside him and this beautiful fucker might just **let** me_. 

“So, uh, I don’t really know what to say,” Foggy started, tucking a stray hair behind his ear and pulling his arms in close to block out the wind drifting lazily from the water. “Stories about growing up on Earth, erm, Midgard are definitely different than fifteen hundred years worth of history on Asgard. My life pales in comparison.”

“Don’t.”

Thor’s voice, always deep and commanding by nature, had rarely ever sounded so harsh to Foggy’s ears, and it caused him to look over to Thor in surprise. “I’m - what?”

Thor’s eyes bore down into his, lacking the playfulness or light camaraderie that had been there just moments ago. “Don’t speak of yourself in such a way, Franklin.” Foggy’s heart gave way to a painful thump at the use of his given name. Thor continued. “Your life may have only been a fraction of mine in length, and lived on a different world, but to speak of yourself as though you are not my equal at the very least, or as though your own tales do not deserve to be told? It’s wretched. It _eats at me_ in a way that I don’t think you realize. The things you’ve done, for your people? For your city, during her most desperate hours? You humans, you-” Thor averted his eyes then, glaring steadfastly to the water. “You use the word ‘superhero’ often to describe beings who are different than yourselves. Would you not have struck down Thanos, were you able?”

Foggy hoped it was a rhetorical question, _needed_ it to be, his mind reeling as he grasped for words that wouldn’t come. This wasn’t the first time he’d had this discussion in his lifetime; his mother in high school, coming to him concerned about his self-deprecating comments about his weight. Matty, over and over again since their Freshman year of college, every time Foggy made mention of how the girls would swoon over the dark-haired half of their duo rather than the dorky half. Karen, any time that Foggy commented on a part of himself he didn’t like, whether it be physical, a character flaw, _anything_. 

Being reprimanded by Thor Odinson felt differently in a way that both warmed Foggy and _enraged_ him. 

“Of course I would have ‘struck down Thanos,’” Foggy bit out after a few moments of gaping silence, far more shrilly than intended. “Who wouldn’t have, Thor? That doesn’t make me a hero, the fact that I would have fed that asshole a bag of fire ants and kicked his ass twelve ways from Sunday. The difference is that I wouldn’t have stood a chance; you, on the other hand? You, and Rogers, and Stark? Scott Lang, Bruce Banner, Captain Marvel, Nat-” Foggy’s voice broke then and he stopped, gulping for breath. “You’re the ones who got that shit done. _You._ We can argue all you want about the semantics of what makes someone heroic, but don’t compare me standing up in a courtroom for some unfortunate folks down on their luck to you standing up to the fucknozzle who _killed my mother and my brothers_ to help end him for good. Talk about shit that eats me up, Thor, for Christ’s sake!”

Thor’s eyes had grown comically wide and were back to being trained on Foggy, on his mouth as it snapped the words as quickly as they could form in his mind. For a moment, Thor’s lips parted as though to respond, but Foggy’s thoughts _kept spilling_ , cascading forth in an unstoppable fountain.

“I know you’re struggling, and I’m sorry if I sound angry because _I’m so far from being angry with you_ , but if you could fathom for one second how much I don’t give a shit about the fact that you’re not a King anymore, or that you don’t have all of the-” Foggy waved his hands around, signaling up and down Thor’s body, “-bulging muscles and the nine-pack and all of that, maybe it would be more fathomable to you why I still can’t believe that _you’re_ sitting here with _me_ on this goddamn park bench by the Hudson.”

Foggy’s chest was heaving by the time he was finished admonishing Thor, and his nerves felt more frayed than they had after his very first court deposition. Their bodies were still pressed together from shoulder to thigh, and Foggy could see that Thor was gripping his own knee hard enough that his fingers were turning white. 

“No, just-” Foggy said softly, heart aching as he reached down to loosen Thor’s hold. Anxiety aside, Foggy tentatively maneuvered Thor’s arm up above his own head and ducked, effectively tucking himself under Thor’s shoulder, the God’s arm warm and heavy where it rested behind his upper back. 

“That okay?” Foggy asked, feeling rigid and unable to see Thor’s face to gauge for himself. 

Thor jostled them a bit until they were more comfortably slotted together, and Foggy felt him squeeze his upper arm where his hand rested. 

“This is,” Thor started, stopped. “This is good.”

It was what Foggy needed to hear in order to relax against Thor’s chest, temple nestled comfortably against his collarbone, Thor’s chin resting atop his head. Thor’s heart beat strong and steadily in his ear, nearly in tune with his own, and Foggy remembered that it should be slower, took pleasure in the idea that Thor’s heart was beating quickly as they huddled together to watch the sun set over the water. 

It was Thor who broke their comfortable silence a few minutes later, once they had both reached a level of calm after their respective outbursts. 

“My ears may have deceived me, but did you refer to Thanos as a ‘fucknozzle’?”

Foggy burst into a fit of giggles at that; it was no use, there was no fighting it. The ridiculous obscenity from Thor’s mouth was so obscure and peculiar that it lit Foggy up from the inside out, and when Thor started to chuckle along with him the feeling escalated into a brook of joy. Grinning, Foggy lifted his head and looked upward, not just to confirm that indeed he had done just that, but also because he wanted to see Thor’s pretty face as he laughed. Thor’s eyes were sparkling when Foggy tipped away, and he grinned, his heart lurched-

And Thor leaned forward, capturing Foggy’s lips in an easy kiss. 

Foggy _sighed_ , tilting his head and parting his lips, bringing his hand up to cup Thor’s jaw as he did so. The kiss was sweet and unhurried; warm, soft and over within seconds, but enough to make Foggy feel as though he were weightless and flying. He kept his eyes closed even after their mouths left each other, bringing their foreheads together and brushing his thumb back and forth over Thor’s cheekbone. 

“Mmm,” Thor hummed, shifting slightly to settle a kiss onto Foggy’s palm, and that? That lit Foggy on _fire_. 

“Fuck,” Foggy whispered, licking his lower lip, chasing the taste of Thor where it lingered. Upon opening his eyes he was met with the sight of Thor, smiling something small and unsure, cheeks red against the white of Foggy’s fingers where they still settled against the bottom of his jaw. 

“You are so lovely,” Thor murmured. “And also, I - My friend Korg, he figured you might prefer me without the beard, said that a ‘strong jawline’ is something that Midgardians find attractive. It seems as though maybe he was right?” His voice was hopeful, and Foggy groaned, tightened his grip on Thor’s chin, a wave of defensiveness flaring within him. 

“Listen to me, you beautiful bastard,” Foggy said, swallowing back a swarm of butterflies to lean forward to place a quick peck on Thor’s mouth. “If we’re gonna do this, I have to make something so, so clear. You? You don’t change anything about the way you look for me. Not your hair, your face, your body, your eyes, the way you dress, none of it. You look so good right now, and you looked so amazing and powerful with that badass beard, too, so. You wanna change something about yourself? You do it for you and only you, because I don’t give a shit, Thor. I couldn’t care less about the package to be honest, dude, although you’ve got a bangin-”

If their first kiss was to be considered chaste, the way that Thor cut Foggy off by devouring his words with his craving mouth would have been deemed _sinful_. Foggy did startle this time, hands scrambling for purchase as they curled into the fabric of Thor’s blazer. Thor shifted his body to face Foggy fully, wrapping both arms around him; one curling around Foggy’s lower back as he pulled them together, chest to chest, Thor’s other hand curling tightly around Foggy’s ponytail and settling at the base of his neck. Distracted by the sensations of how Thor was expertly manhandling their bodies, Foggy nearly missed the moment that Thor licked into his mouth. 

Nearly. 

Thor tasted of ale and something else faintly sweet - minty, perhaps - and his tongue against Foggy’s was strong and rhythmic. It was _intoxicating_ , the way that Thor held him, kissed him, made him feel wanted and - Oh, but goddammit did Foggy want Thor to feel this, exactly this.

Rather than simply leaving his fists twisted in Thor’s shirt, Foggy pulled with his hands at the same time as he pushed with his own tongue, massaging his way into Thor’s mouth. Thor groaned and a flash of _want_ struck Foggy within his belly and he pulled back, putting a bit of distance between them. 

“If we don’t stop,” Foggy said, catching his breath, trying to find any blue left behind the black of Thor’s iris in his left eye, “I’m going to get arrested for public indecency and I worked really hard to be a lawyer, babe.”

Thor threw his head back and laughed, his own chest heaving, and Foggy laughed with him. 

“Well, we can’t have that then, I suppose,” Thor said, his head lolling back until he was facing Foggy. “Although I would be lying if I were to say that I weren’t feeling rather tempted to get you into a state of indecency.”

Foggy raised his eyebrows. “Honestly? If anyone paid close enough attention, I’d say I’m halfway there.” He loosened his ponytail, not even wanting to imagine how mussed he looked after their _moment_ , and started to smooth back his hair. 

“Foggy,” Thor said, sitting up again, head cocked as though in observation. 

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been...well. You’ve been spectacular beyond my wildest considerations, and you’ve already allowed for one strange Asgardian request this evening by letting me see your sleeping quarters. I was wondering if you might allow for another?”

Foggy kept his eyebrows raised, but couldn’t help himself from smiling. “Be careful, Thor. I’m feeling awfully complacent right about now and willing to say yes to just about anything.” 

Thor grinned at that. “Nothing quite so untoward, my friend.” Thor paused at that, a look of fleeting confusion passing across his features. “Friend?”

Foggy froze for a moment, then shrugged. “Uh. We don’t have to...not now, anyway, if you don’t want…”

Thor, looking more lost than before, simply shook his head dismissively. “A different time, then. As for this matter. There have been countless times over the last many weeks where I have wanted to play with your hair.”

Foggy felt himself start to blush from the base of his throat. “Oh?”

Thor nodded, confident. “Yes. More specifically, to braid your hair. It is… custom, one might say.”

Foggy thought for a moment before extending the hair tie in his hand over to Thor. “I mean, knock yourself out.”

Pure, unadulterated _delight_ spread across Thor’s face as he scooched closer on the bench, hands immediately making their way into Foggy’s hair. For a few moments Foggy simply lost himself to the sensation, much as he imagined Thor was doing; Thor ran his fingers through the length of Foggy’s locks, scratched his nails a bit across Foggy’s scalp and took his time before partitioning a small chunk of hair away from the rest, near the bottom left, behind Foggy’s ear. Foggy felt the familiar pattern of a braid forming as Thor went to work, nimble hands making a quick task of it. 

“Is this one of the braids that you mentioned in my office? A sign, or indicator or whatever, that I might be into guys?” Foggy asked, curious. 

“Mmm, you remembered! I like your brain, Foggy. Yes. For men with hair such length as ours, it is quite common for a simple braid on one side or the other to indicate a same-gender preference, as well as availability.” Thor’s fingers kept working, Foggy’s hair long enough for him to be able to turn and glance down to see that Thor was midway through finishing. 

“Availability? As in, like, relationship status?”

Thor nodded. “Indeed. A single braid on the right side would indicate an interest in males, and an interest in seeking male companionship. A braid on the left would indicate the interest, but more as a statement of self, or pride, as a braid on the left also is a statement that one is spoken for.”

The butterflies that Foggy had swallowed down before escaped within his chest and started to ram against his ribcage. A small sound escaped his throat, and Thor paused. 

“I suppose,” Thor started, looking at the braid in his hand, “That perhaps I should have explained before choosing for you. Since we are on Midgard, I rather thought that maybe it would not mean anything, for you.”

Foggy rolled his eyes, kissed Thor quickly on the mouth, and instructed him to finish his braid. 

*

When they left the park an hour later, the air on the wrong side of cool and the sky reaching black, they sported matching braids, hanging loosely over their left shoulders, bouncing as they walked.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING*   
> There is homophobic language and fatphobic harassment in this chapter. It is relatively brief and entirely verbal.
> 
> Huzzah, I'm still alive! This obscure fic still lives and breathes!
> 
> As always, the ridiculously skilled FadedSepia improved this chapter by miles as my lovely beta; anything clunky, word choice or grammar-wise, rests on my shoulders.
> 
> If you're still here with me in chapter six, I love you eternally and am sending you warm beverages of your choice with my mind on the daily <3
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> -EP

_1:54 pm_  
 **Scary Hawkeye**  
since you and thunder boy are finally bangin do you want to come to calypso with me and karen tomorrow night?

_2:02 pm_  
 **Foggy Nelson**  
Why are you like this. Not banging, and also what in the hell makes you think I can dance?

_2:06 pm_  
 **Scary Hawkeye**  
huh. I assumed since he’s been all smiley lately and ‘foggy this’ ‘foggy that’ that you two finally got past all the ust. didn’t you go on a date?

_2:10 pm_  
 **Foggy Nelson**  
A few, not that it’s your business. Things are good. What is this conversation and why am I talking to you about my sex life again?

_2:13 pm_  
 **Scary Hawkeye**  
nvm about that. unimportant. focus. Calypso, you, me, karen, thor. I don’t care if you can dance, don’t you wanna see your man in a club? all sweaty on the dance floor?

_2:27 pm_  
 **Foggy Nelson**  
You’re lucky Karen likes you. 

*

_2:28 pm_  
 **Foggy Nelson**  
Hey, you.

_2:32 pm_  
 **Thor ♥**  
Foggy :) :) I was thinking about you today. Would you like to get dinner tomorrow?

_2:35 pm_  
 **Foggy Nelson**  
Guh, that sounds so good. I’ve been thinking about you, too, sweet thing. But Kate just texted me and wanted to know if we want to double date with her and Karen tomorrow night? There’s a club not too far from my place, Calypso. Drinks, dancing, loud music, lots of people. What do you think?

_2:37 pm_  
 **Thor ♥**  
Would I get to dance with you? ;)

_2:40 pm_  
 **Foggy Nelson**  
Don’t play dumb with me, you know I wouldn’t be able to turn that down. 

_2:42 pm_  
 **Thor ♥**  
Tell me what time to be there. I look forward to seeing you. I am using Google to look at clubwear. If you show up in anything like this I may electrocute you on accident. Fair warning ;) <3

*

_2:54 pm_  
 **Foggy Nelson**  
What time should we meet you there?

_2:57 pm_  
 **Scary Hawkeye**  
haha no way? 9. this is gonna be great. I just told karen and she squealed and it was adorable, so thanks for agreeing. I guess i’m pretty excited too it should be fun. It was the thinking of him dancing that did it for you huh

_2:59 pm_  
 **Foggy Nelson**  
And maybe wondering what he’s going to wear? He was googling clubbing clothes. So yeah, thanks for the invite and see you tomorrow.

_3:00 pm_  
 **Scary Hawkeye**  
Ohmygod

*

Foggy was not prepared. 

“Are those _leather?_ ” he managed to squawk, gesturing half-sanely at Thor’s skin-tight pants. He was still strides away from where the god was leaning against the side of the building, a few feet off of the entrance, arms crossed and looking as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Thor’s hair was pulled into a heavy bun, all aside from a thin braid tucked behind his left ear (Foggy bit the inside of his cheek at the sight). Gracing the upper half of Thor’s body was a simple crew-cut, cream colored cotton t-shirt, untucked and stretched taught here and there, namely across Thor’s upper arms and abdomen, which still looked soft to the touch but less substantial as the weeks passed and Foggy _longed_ to dip his hands beneath the hem of that shirt, to ruck- 

“And you find it fitting to call _me_ sweet thing?” Thor crooned, grinning when Foggy reached him. Thor leaned down and pecked Foggy’s cheek, causing an immediate blush to fill him from the neck up. “Let me look at you,” Thor requested, pushing back lightly on Foggy’s shoulder. Foggy stepped back and awkwardly put his hands on his hips, trying hard not to think about the way Thor’s eyes flashed lightning blue as he grazed his eyes over Foggy’s dark jeans, white short sleeve button-up and black, loosely tied skinny tie ensemble. 

“Probably not what you were expecting a la Google,” Foggy joked. “No glitter or mesh tank tops, sorry. Not quite my bag.”

“Foggy?”

“Hmm?”

“Shut up and take me dancing before I ravish you against this wall.” 

A surge of desire rocked Foggy from the soles of his feet to the tops of his ears; a lunch date, ice cream after work and reservations at a nice place in the heart of Brooklyn following their first date at the river hadn’t exactly been conducive to being ravished, and hearing the words from Thor’s lips was nearly enough to cause Foggy to cant his hips into nothing.

Foggy cleared his throat as he reached forward and wrapped his hand around Thor’s, tugging him toward where the bouncer stood at the door.

“I’m doing this against my will, at this point, because hearing _that_ doesn’t exactly make me want to go dancing,” Foggy called behind his shoulder to Thor, whose laugh was loud enough to drown out the music that engulfed them when they stepped inside.

*

“I don’t know what I expected, but Foggy, _Foggy_ , what is he _doing_?” Karen yelled over the pulse of the music, her voice strained with laughter, the ends of her words slurring into the beginnings of the ones that followed. She leaned against Foggy’s shoulder where he was leaning against one of the two bars, the skin of her forehead hot and sweaty where it rested against the side of his face. He couldn’t find it in him to complain, not even that her hair was somehow in his mouth, because he was too busy laughing with her, his own body feeling loose and languid after nearly two hours of drinking and dancing.

“I don’t – Karen, Karen, I _don’t know_ , but look – look at _yours_!” Foggy pointed to where Kate was grinding her ass against Thor’s front, and it was impossible to tell whether or not she was trying to look sexy with how robotic and choppy the entire display was. Kate was trembling with barks of laughter, both visible and audible even over the pounding electronica that Foggy could feel vibrating in his chest. Thor simply stood, twitching his hips from side to side and flailing his arms about, head back and rocking too and fro, and Foggy and never seen anyone with such horrendous rhythm. Thor didn’t even have the excuse of being drunk; the wide, happy grin on the god’s face was one of complete silliness, and the fondness in his eyes when Kate got his attention by smacking his chest made Foggy’s heart clench.

“They’re both ridili…ridicus…” Karen tried, lifting her head from Foggy’s shoulder and screwing up her eyebrows. Foggy grinned at her and turned around, motioning to the bartender.

“Two waters, please, for me and my ridiculous friend, here.”

Karen hit his shoulder and looked pleased about it. “Yeah! That. They’re both that. How did we both get that? I like that they’re both ridiculous.”

Foggy hummed and tipped the bartender, passing a plastic cup filled to the brim with cool water over to Karen, who started sucking it down immediately.

“You and Kate took an Uber to get here, right?”

Karen nodded, lips never leaving the cup, and Foggy watched in near horrified fascination as she drained the cup in one go.

“That’s… yeah, that’s good.”

“What’s good, Sleazy?” Kate’s voice yelled from Foggy’s side, startling him.

“Don’t call me that!” The response was out of his mouth before he had fully turned to glare at her. Kate’s face was red and her thin t-shirt was near drenched with sweat, but she was grinning as she plucked Foggy’s water out of his hands. He thought about arguing and swiping it back, but decided that she probably needed it more than he did at that point.

“It’s good that neither of you are driving anywhere, you drunk asses,” Foggy replied, twisting around to see if Thor had followed Kate off of the crowded dance floor. “Where’s my… Thor?”

Kate giggled. “You mean your machine? He bested me, Nelson. I couldn’t keep up with whatever that thing is that he calls dancing! He’s out there somewhere, probs waiting for you. So, shoo, shoo.” Kate made a pushing gesture with her hands, some of the water in the cup sloshing over the side, and Karen made a wounded sound. Kate looked over, apologetic, and sidled up to Karen’s side, making crooning sounds into Karen’s throat.

Foggy decided that it was time to leave them to it, and he turned to make his way onto the dance floor.

Thor wasn’t difficult to find, as tall and sturdy a man as he was. When Foggy zeroed in on him, Thor had a beer in hand and was dancing horribly with a woman wearing a sash, something to do with a birthday, though Foggy couldn’t make out the number. As opposed to how Thor had been dancing with Kate, it was easy to see that Thor was doing his best to keep at least a few inches distance between himself and the birthday girl, in spite of the way she kept trying to close the gap.

“Hey, you!” Foggy called once close enough, and Thor’s face broke out into an incinerating smile the moment they locked eyes.

“Foggy!” Thor boomed, leaning down sideways to place a wet kiss on Foggy’s temple. He turned back toward the woman, who looked a bit shocked but not malicious.

“I must bid you farewell as to steal my beau away for a dance! I wish you a great night of celebration!” Thor called to her, nodding his head before stepping away. She responded, her words blurred by the music, but Foggy took it to be a good thing that she looked pleased before Thor blocked his view from her entirely.

“I missed you entirely too much,” Thor said, leaning down to speak into Foggy’s ear. His breath was warm and welcome against Foggy’s throat.

“Aww, is that right, _beau_ of mine?” Foggy teased, throwing his arms around Thor’s neck, their height difference making it so that he could truly only lock his hands at the back of his neck. “You were looking awfully comfy getting jiggy with some of these lovely ladies.”

Thor’s grin turned into something bordering on salacious, and he wrapped his arms around Foggy’s middle, pulling them flush together. “Were you envious?”

Foggy thought about lying and quickly found that he couldn’t. “No. Honestly, I think seeing you dancing with them just endeared you to me even more. You’re a terrible dancer, Thor, but it’s cute as fuck.”

Thor chuckled lowly and Foggy laughed with him, tilting upward to plant an open-mouthed kiss at the base of Thor’s throat, and Foggy could _feel_ Thor’s light laughter transform into a low groan. Thor’s hold on him tightened and Foggy moved his hips, the music around them still beating in his chest. Foggy wasn’t the world’s greatest dancer, but he had rhythm and could follow a beat; if Thor stayed pressed against him tightly enough, Foggy could lead them to move together in a way that he knew would be _enjoyable as hell_.

Thor followed his lead immediately, shifting ever so slightly in order to better slot them together and _shit,_ Foggy was glad that they were in a low-lit club because grinding on Thor like this, with the god’s salty sweet skin beneath his tongue as he did his best to suck a bruise onto his throat? It was going to leave Foggy wrecked in no time.

“Holy fuck, you’ve got to be kidding me. It _is_ Thor! Thor, man, what are you _doing_?”

Foggy pulled back, looking up to judge Thor’s reaction to the voice that Foggy didn’t think he recognized. Thor’s eyes roved over the crowd around them, looking as confused as Foggy felt, and the hands on Foggy’s back loosened. Foggy turned around, and he saw two unfamiliar men standing not too far away gaping at them, drinks in hand.

“I apologize, I don’t seem to recall if we’ve met?” Thor asked, and Foggy closed his eyes for a brief moment because his gut told him immediately that no, they hadn’t met, and that Thor was about to become acquainted with a human experience that Foggy was all too familiar with.

“Nah, man, you don’t know me. But I know you!” One of the men said, the taller of the two, which was one of the only ways that Foggy would be able to distinguish them given their similar tanned complexion, short blonde hair and non-descript jeans and collared shirts. “At least I thought I did! Didn’t know that the Avengers let homos into their ranks.”

Foggy’s stomach felt instantly sour. He glanced from the two idiots over to Thor, whose jaw had tightened. Thor cocked his head to the side.

“I’m willing to guess that there’s a lot you don’t know. If that’s everything?” Thor reached down and entwined his hand with Foggy’s, turning undoubtedly to lead them away, before the shorter man spoke.

“Didn’t you used to have that chick, though? You weren’t always a queer, man, what happened? Couldn’t get pussy anymore after your fat ass ate too much Earth food? They didn’t have pizza on Asgard, or what?”

Anger, hot and heavy, blossomed in Foggy’s chest, and he whipped around so quickly that his head jerked backward due to Thor still having hold on his hand. He typically wasn’t one for physical conflict and he didn’t think that was his intent in that moment, either; all he knew was that he wanted to put that _shitstain_ in his place.

“Leave it, Foggy. You worked a long time to be a lawyer, remember?” Thor’s voice in his ear, low and grounding, and Foggy grit his teeth together. They turned back and stepped, and Foggy felt a pit in his stomach when it became obvious that the guys decided to follow.

“Well damn, Troy, lookit that. Thor, runnin’ from a little teasing. Hey, superhero, they take your balls when you learn how to suck dick?”

“Maybe he just can’t find ‘em under that damn gut, man!”

“Ha! Good one, good one! Bet his pudgy ass little princess boyfriend can’t either, pair of pussies –"

Foggy _yelped_ , his hand feeling as though he had gripped a red hot iron in an instant. He snatched his hand away from Thor and stepped back in surprise, and was hit with dread, fear and anticipation in equal measure when he took in the sight of Thor’s face in that moment.

Thor’s eyes were illuminated, pupils nor iris no longer visible under the brightness of the light that shone from them, and the electricity that fizzed and crackled between his fingertips was stark in the darkness of the club when he held his hands up at his sides and took a step toward the men. Things started happening at once, pulling Foggy’s attention in every direction; the whirring sound of electricity overloading, following by the pop, pop, _popping_ of lightbulbs around the club; the sparking of the DJ’s electrical equipment and the smell of burning electronics that started to fill the air as confused patrons started to make panicked sounds, backing away from Thor one by one.  
The music died a moment before the sprinkler system came on, though Foggy didn’t see any fires. In the two beats of silence before the water started to fall, he heard Thor emit one word, low and more threatening than he had ever heard anyone sound in his entire life.

“ _Apologize._ ”

The fuckers didn’t do so, of course, not that Foggy thought they would even if they hadn’t taken the opportunity to join in with the rest of the crowd, who started making their way in droves toward the exit, trying to hold jackets and purses above their heads to avoid getting drenched. The two assholes had looked absolutely frozen in fear at Thor’s display of raw power.

Foggy, however?

As he watched Thor blink and breathe his way into a state of calm in the middle of the quickly emptying club, Foggy was equal parts concerned and drunk with arousal. He took a few steadying breaths himself before reaching out a hand to lay on Thor’s forearm. When there wasn’t a shock, he let his hand drift further down to clasp Thor’s hand.

“Hey. You okay?”

Thor blinked down at him, his eyes having lost their glow. It was hard to see in the nearly pitch-black room, but Foggy could just about make out the creep of a flush on Thor’s face.

“I didn’t – That got out of hand, a bit.”

“You don’t say,” Kate’s voice interrupted as she and Karen stepped up beside them, Karen’s arm looped through Kate’s. “I leave you alone for all of ten fucking minutes and you light the place on fire?!”

“To be fair, he didn’t light anything on fire,” Foggy supplied, trying to be helpful.

“Foggy,” all three of the others warned, and Foggy clamped his mouth shut.

“Ms. Page,” Thor said after a moment of awkward silence, and Karen hummed. “I believe I may be in some need of legal aid. Could you let me know at your earliest convenience when Mr. Murdock will be available for a consultation?”

Foggy covered his face with his hands while Kate and Karen burst into laughter.

*

Foggy shared a taxi with Thor back to Thor’s place.

It had seemed both irresponsible and rude as hell to let Thor return home alone after what happened at the club, and Foggy simply hadn’t wanted to. Thor didn’t seemed surprised when Foggy had requested to see him home; in fact, he’d seemed relieved, as though he had wanted Foggy to ask, or had wanted to ask Foggy but hadn’t known how.

The silence between them was thick without being awkward as they shuffled around one another as though this wasn’t only the second time Foggy had been to Thor’s home; as though Foggy was there frequently when Thor wound down for the night. Shoes slipped off, water drank in the kitchen, and the door locked behind them, Foggy followed Thor as he made his way down the hall and to his bathroom. He perched himself at the doorway when Thor didn’t close it behind him and accepted the spare toothbrush that Thor tossed in his direction.

Thor didn’t ask Foggy to stay with words, but Foggy took the toothbrush as a good indication that a welcome had been extended.

It wasn’t until their teeth had been brushed and hair combed out that Foggy cleared his throat, shattering the stillness in the apartment.

“Can I borrow something to sleep in, like before?”

Foggy knew that Thor would say yes, because why wouldn’t he? He had offered Foggy his clothes and bedding and his couch during the neonatal stage of their friendship; there would be no reason for him to refuse these things to Foggy now. The question that was spinning through Foggy’s brain, the one he really wanted to ask, was whether or not the borrowed shirt would come atop a pile of blankets to be carried out to the living room, or if he would be led instead to Thor’s bedroom.

“Of course,” Thor said, voice hoarse as he stepped around Foggy and out of the bathroom. He hadn’t met Foggy’s eyes and it stirred discomfort in Foggy’s belly. If anyone asked, that would be the reason that Foggy would give as to why he followed Thor down the hall and into his own bedroom.

If Thor was surprised that Foggy entered his space without an invitation, he didn’t make any mention of it. He simply opened a drawer to his dresser and pulled out a soft looking black t-shirt, extending it to Foggy, keeping his eyes to the ground. Somewhat exasperated and not knowing what to do, not knowing what was happening in Thor’s head, Foggy tossed the shirt onto the bed nearby and stepped into Thor’s space.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?”

Thor didn’t move, didn’t make an effort to speak. After a few moments, Foggy nodded.

“Okay.” Foggy reached up and started to undo his own tie, loosening the knot before pulling it over his head rather than untying it all the way. “I’m assuming you’re thinking about the dickheads at the club.” Foggy rested his tie on the top of Thor’s dresser, noting the way that Thor’s eye was now tracking his hands. Foggy started unbuttoning his shirt from the collar down. “And I would really like to know how to get you to _stop_ , and the only way that I can think how to do that is by doing _this_ , and it’s not because I think I’m some sexy beast who can distract you with my body, but it’s because I _don’t_ think that.” Heart pounding, pulse rushing in his ears, Foggy unclasped the last button and shrugged off his shirt, fighting back a shiver at the air-conditioned air that hugged his bare flesh from the waist up as he did so. “Those assholes said some nasty shit about you, and whatever about me, and nothing that I haven’t thought about myself. But does it matter what they think? Not to me.”

The way that Thor’s eyes were locked onto Foggy’s skin and the visible look of surprise on Thor’s face spurred Foggy to take Thor’s hands and settle them onto his exposed flesh above his hips, an area on his body that Foggy struggled with loving, in spite of the title ‘love handles.’

“Do you like my body, Thor?” Foggy asked, glad to sound more sure of himself than he felt.

Thor nodded immediately, gently squeezing Foggy’s flesh in his hands. “You’re beautiful,” Thor croaked, and Foggy’s heart ached.

He surged upward, finding Thor’s lips with his own, kiss immediately returned. Thor’s hands slid to the bare expanse of Foggy’s lower back, his wide palms and splayed fingers making Foggy feel safe and wanted and _cherished._

“Can I see you?” Foggy breathed into Thor’s mouth. Thor froze for a heartbeat of time before nodding, and Foggy finally, _finally_ took purchase of the hem of Thor’s t-shirt and pulled it up and over Thor’s head, with some help from Thor himself.

Once Thor was exposed from the waist up, Foggy didn’t hesitate before he started to pepper the god’s chest with kisses, using his hands to touch, feel, and explore every inch he could possibly reach. The planes and shapes of Thor’s body changed between hard and soft, warm and _hot,_ and - goddammit - if the feel of Thor beneath his fingers wasn’t everything that Foggy had expected.

Foggy knew that he had been murmuring into Thor’s skin as he lavished his upper body with kisses, still standing in the middle of the bedroom, but he hadn’t been paying attention to the words ( _gorgeous – sexy – beautiful – perfect – look at you_ ) until he heard a sharp whimper from above him. When he pulled back to look up at Thor, he was startled to find tears welled in his blue eye.

“Hey, hey. I’m sorry, did I-”

“No,” Thor said, and his smile lit up the room. “No, you did nothing worth apologizing for. I am simply wondering how it is that you cannot see what everyone else can, when they see us together. What they will always see.”

Foggy wiped a tear from Thor’s cheek. “A god and a lawyer?” He tried.

Thor chuckled. “You’re out of my league, human,” he said, and Foggy groaned, thumping his forehead forward to meet Thor’s chest. He brought his hands up to graze against Thor’s side and opened his mouth to argue… stopping only when Thor _jumped._

“Oh… oh, shit. Are you… Thor. Thor. Are you _ticklish_?”

Foggy looked up just as Thor looked down to meet his gaze.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Thor replied, stone faced.

Foggy grinned, and Thor heaved himself onto the bed faster than should have been possible, burying himself under the covers as to avoid Foggy’s impending onslaught.

It wasn’t long after that they fell asleep, Thor having kicked off his leather pants but Foggy still in his jeans, the blankets in a pile at the end of the bed. Thor tumbled into sleep first, and, for that, Foggy was glad; he savored the moments just before being pulled under, holding Thor close to his chest, the tickle of his hair on Foggy’s cheek, Thor’s skin warm beneath his lips.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all,
> 
> This is a short chapter, and will be the shortest of the bunch. I didn't want to force anything that didn't feel organic, and it's an important chapter so I left it alone once I was happy with it. 
> 
> As always, beta'd by the lovely FadedSepia. Any leftover mistakes or clunks belong to me!
> 
> This fic will stay a rated M fic. So, erm, enjoy!
> 
> -EP

Foggy woke to the smell of coffee.

It was certainly a lovely way to wake up, and his first thought was that he needed to _always_ remember to set the timer on his coffee machine because this was glorious. Even if he _had_ forgotten to take off his jeans before falling into bed… and also his socks?

Foggy sat straight up, going from groggy to wide awake in a matter of seconds. He _never_ fell asleep wearing socks. It was a sin against his feet. Although, he supposed he could be forgiven for such a mortal sin once he realized what had led to the oversight.

The foreign surroundings brought back the night before in an instant as he took in the details of Thor’s room, bathed in the mid-morning light that had managed to sneak its way through the curtains. Foggy shook off the remaining sleep and took a moment to lean back into the bed, tilting his head to the side and into Thor’s vacant pillow. Foggy breathed, the scent of Thor chasing away the scent of coffee and _yeah, I could get used to this._

After a brief debate, Foggy slipped into the shirt that Thor had presented to him last night to sleep in, and stepped out of the bedroom. A quick visit to the restroom later (which included a rapid brushing of his hair and teeth because really, _nobody_ was their best first thing in the morning), Foggy made his through the empty living room and into the kitchen. Thor was diligently slicing a myriad of fruits on a cutting board and tossing them into a colander in the sink. 

Thor’s back was to Foggy, his broad shoulders covered by a soft looking gray robe that barely hung to the middle of Thor’s thighs. Thor’s blonde mane looked bushy and kinked in spots, straining against the simple rubber band holding it back at the base of his neck. His feet were bare, one flat on the tiled kitchen floor and the other tapping to a rhythm unheard to Foggy, only playing in Thor’s mind. It was evident by the slight change in Thor’s breathing and the straightening in his shoulders that he was aware that Foggy was there, leaning against the wall, watching him cut up strawberries and kiwis.

Foggy was in love with him. It was scary, but not terrifying; a realization that settled comfortably in its place within Foggy’s chest and mind somewhere in between one strawberry and the next. It was his for now, Foggy’s; something to unleash into the world, but not just yet.

“Did you sleep well?”

Thor’s voice was as full as ever, but quiet in their shared space, as though he was trying to respect the stillness of the morning. 

Foggy hummed in confirmation. “Sure did. Had my own personal furnace.”

Thor turned to him then, smiling over his shoulder, and Foggy winked at him. 

The languid peace of morning shifted in an instant, and Foggy could _feel_ the air between them crackle and thicken, an invisible string growing taught the moment Thor’s pupil widened enough to swallow the blue around it as he drank in the sight of freshly-woken Foggy, snarking and voice gravelled.

Thor didn’t look away or go back to his task of fixing them breakfast. Thor placed the knife on the cutting board and turned toward Foggy, his robe open to show him clad in only his black boxer briefs from the night before. The moisture wicked from Foggy’s mouth and his breath quickened; he knew before Thor made it to him that it would be with need and desperation that their bodies would connect, and he was right.

The back of Foggy’s head struck the wall with the force of Thor’s mouth chasing his own, the pain of it barely registering beneath the frenzy of _want need closer_ pulsing through his body at the sensation of Thor crowding him all at once. They came together everywhere and completely, Thor blanketing Foggy with so many points of contact that Foggy could only respond with an open-mouthed gasp, which Thor took rapid advantage of, deepening their kiss and _oh fuck he tastes like strawberries and coffee and goddamn sunshine_. 

Thor’s lips traveled away from Foggy’s bruised mouth, his stubble leaving a delicious burn in its wake as he kissed his way to Foggy’s throat. Foggy whined at the loss of contact and the sudden coldness as Thor’s chest left his with the way Thor had to lean down to suck at the column of Foggy’s neck; Thor smiled into Foggy’s skin before Foggy felt wide and strong hands scoop him up at the base of his thighs.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Foggy breathed, hooking his ankles behind Thor’s back and mindlessly clawing at Thor’s shoulders. “The fact that you can just _hold me up against the wall_ like this is turning me on more than I think anything else in my entire life has ever turned me on.”

Thor laughed, booming instead of quiet, and leaned his sweat-pebbled forehead against Foggy’s.

“The fact that _you_ are still speaking in full sentences is unacceptable,” Thor said as he rolled his hips, grinding them together, and Foggy dug his fingernails into the back of Thor’s neck and moaned in a way that he would no doubt be embarrassed about later.

“Need… jeans are stupid,” Foggy grumbled, wanting nothing more than to be as close to Thor as possible. He met Thor’s eyes and thought about pleading, begging for anything, as long as it meant Thor would touch him with his fingers, his mouth, anything…

“That’s much better,” Thor said, leaning in to pull Foggy’s lower lip into his mouth, scraping slightly with his teeth. Foggy wrapped a hand into Thor’s messy ponytail and tried his damndest not to pull, needing something to hold onto as Thor continued to rock his hips and nibble at his lip. Christ, but Thor was going to _kill_ him, he was going to _die right there_. 

Foggy slipped his free hand beneath Thor’s open robe, wanting to touch everywhere at once, limited because there was so little space between them. Foggy pulled his head back and away from Thor, and Thor let him. The skin of Thor’s collarbone was salty with sweat when Foggy latched onto it, and Thor’s hips jerked when Foggy sucked. The hand in Thor’s hair tightened and yanked in response, something automatic, and the resulting groan that ripped from Thor’s throat was the most intoxicating sound that Foggy had ever heard in his life. Foggy detached from Thor’s collarbone and gazed up, snarky quip prepared, when Thor suddenly dropped him.

Foggy’s ankles still crossed behind Thor’s back meant that even though Thor had released his hands from beneath Foggy’s thighs, mercifully, Foggy didn’t completely drop to his ass. Rather, Foggy flailed to catch himself around Thor’s neck and made purchase on the floor with one leg and then the other, saving himself from utter humiliation and possibly injury. Once Foggy was on both feet, Thor took a step back, and they stood face to face, chests heaving. 

Foggy, confused and trying harder than he’d tried to do anything else in his life to ignore Thor’s obvious arousal, swallowed and met Thor’s eyes. “Okay. You okay? Cuz, uh, that was great and then… you dropped me. _Literally.”_

Thor’s face flushed beet red. He cleared his throat. “Yes. Yes! That was, yes. You see, the thing is. You, uh, pulled my hair.”

Foggy blinked, mortification seeping in. “Oh, fuck, is that a really rude thing to do? Is it like a super culturally inappropriate thing? I tried not to, but you moved just right and it felt so fucking good, Thor, it just _happened_ and I’m sor-”

“You pulled my hair and I think I burned holes in your jeans, Foggy.”

Foggy stopped talking. Reached behind him and put his hands on the ass of his jeans and moved them down, until his fingers were met with warm and frayed fabric on both sides, his fingertips brushing the flesh of his thighs beneath. 

Foggy gaped at Thor. “I pulled your hair.”

Thor nodded.

“And you - you fucking _loved it_.”

Thor bit his lip. Nodded.

Foggy stepped up to him, heart thundering, and leaned upward to place a chaste kiss on Thor’s swollen lips.

“Thor,” Foggy said softly, “it’s time for you to invite me into your bed.”

“Yes,” Thor breathed, eyes wide. “Yes, it is.”

Moments later, after the door closed them both inside Thor's room, thunder began to shake the windows and lightning flashed, where before there had only been blue skies and shining sun.

*

Thor’s shower was not big enough for two people, but somehow they made due. 

The floor of the bathroom was soaked by the time they were finished, Thor having insisted that he wash Foggy’s hair and back for him the _moment_ that he saw Foggy wince after stepping inside. Foggy didn’t know what Thor expected, and hell, Foggy was pleased with the pain, the soreness that would be there until at least the next day. 

He even told Thor as much. “Proof that I somehow tricked an actual god into having sex with me.”

“Well. Keep the tricks coming then, Foggy.”

Foggy didn’t even bother trying to explain the nuance of _that_ double entendre to Thor. Not when Thor looked so pleased and entirely blissed out as he lathered Foggy’s hair in the shower, not so much as blinking an eye at the water sloshing over the side of the tub and onto the floor. 

“This shower is ridiculous. This is a shower for ants, Thor, not two grown ass men!”

Thor was even sweet enough to write down Foggy’s complaint, which he said he would pass on to Kate the next morning. Foggy knew that it wouldn't make one iota of a difference, and would likely give Kate another reason to taunt him every time she saw him, but he couldn’t be bothered to give a damn, the thoughtfulness of the gesture being all that mattered.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!
> 
> I am really, really excited to post this chapter! I had an _absolute blast_ writing this one, even though there is a touch of angst. Please let me know what you think about the end; I am posting and then running to hide because I am NERVOUS. 
> 
> TW for descriptions of injuries, particularly a nasty hand injury, though the descriptions are relatively brief. 
> 
> Oh, and Clint shows up, which means he gets hurt, because I love writing Clint but I can't write him without him being hurt and I'M SORRY OKAY (also this is my first time writing mostly MCU compliant Clint? It was. Weird.)
> 
> ANYWAY. A hella major thank you to my beautific and talented beta FadedSepia, who not only pushed this chapter over the finish line but also inspired the idea of Poker Nights with this amazing fic of hers: [The Perils of Powered People](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578896/chapters/51448648).
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

It was raining outside, which only partially explained why Clint Barton was dripping all over Foggy’s living room like a wet dog, in that it explained the _dripping_ , but not the _bleeding_ or the fact that Clint was there in the first place. 

“Uh… you okay? Should I be calling someone? Laura, or Kate, or…” Foggy couldn’t think of anyone else, stopping himself before letting Nat’s name slip from his tongue. He snapped his fingers, sleep-addled brain finally booting back online through a haze of sharp, unexpected grief. “Jess? Although - I swear to God, Barton - if I’m about to call Jessica into my home at two o’clock in the morning, you’d better be _dying_ because the last time she was here-”

“-she kicked over the plant-thing and broke the window. I was here, Nelson, remember? I brought the nachos.” Clint groaned as he tossed himself crookedly into Foggy’s armchair. He wiped his bleeding eyebrow with the back of his hand, and sighed. “Don’t call in Jones, or the rest of the brigade. Although I woulda thought you’d forgiven her by now; the plant-thing was like six years ago, dude, and if I recall correctly, you were the one who supplied the margaritas. Makes me miss poker nights, actually, we should get those goin’ again.” 

Foggy tried to scowl at the sight of Clint soaking his furniture, but struggled against the thought of how _nice_ it would be. Poker nights with Matty, Karen, Jessica, and Clint had been a blast, back before Thanos, after Clint had decided to be an idiot and take up property ownership in Bed-Stuy as a side hustle, a “retirement plan” as he had called it. It hadn’t taken long for Clint and Matty to cross paths in the streets, what with Clint’s growing problem with the Tracksuit Mafia and Matty’s penchant for Being Helpful and Nosey. And once they had gotten to know one another? It was all down (up?) hill after that. 

Poker nights. _Yeah, that should be a thing again. Only now I guess Thor would be there, too. And probably Kate… I don’t know if I’m quite ready for that._ Foggy shook his head again; whether to recalibrate and refocus, or to shake away the sneaking feelings of fondness that had started to build in his mind, he didn’t care to decipher. 

“Hey-o,” Clint waved his hands from the chair, bringing Foggy back from the edge of nostalgia. “What’s a man gotta do to get a towel around here?”

“Not wake me up in the middle of the night and ruin my furniture?” Foggy shot back as he moved toward the bathroom to fetch a towel anyway. “When are you going to tell me why this is a thing that’s happening, anyway? Who are you hiding from?” Foggy yelled, looking at his stack of clean towels, mentally parsing out which he was willing to sacrifice to Clint’s bleeding face. Picking out a slightly frayed lavender beach towel at the bottom, Foggy made his way back to Clint in the living room. 

“Aww, Fog, for me? How thoughtful,” Clint said cheekily, immediately smashing his face into the towel and dragging it upward to dry his hair in tandem. The mussed strands of his mohawk stood in disarray once he was finished, and Foggy shook his head. 

“You kept the ‘hawk, I see. The puns are too easy, Clint, I can’t believe you haven’t shaved it off yet.” 

Clint grinned. “Was gonna, but Laura liked it. Kids _hate_ it, but it’s my job to embarrass ‘em, so. I’ve embraced the Mohawkeye moniker with open arms.”

Lightning flashed outside, followed immediately by a clap of thunder, and the lights inside the apartment flickered. Foggy’s brow creased; it’d been raining for hours, even before he’d gone to sleep, but he hadn’t known it was supposed to storm so damn hard.

“Oh,” Clint mentioned casually, draping the towel around the back of his neck and leaning back in the chair, “by the way, I should probably advise you to put on a pot of coffee or something. And you’ve got a first aid kit, right?”

Foggy cocked his head, eyeing the cut just above Clint’s left eye; it’d already clotted. “I mean, yes, but I don’t think you’ll need it unless you’re hiding something horrific under your clothes. You want a bandaid for your eye? Doesn’t look like it’ll need stitches.”

“Not for me, Foggy-dear.”

Foggy’s stomach sank.

“How bad is he hurt and why did you leave him alone?” Foggy’s tone was now at full force, wide awake and snappy. _Of course_ Clint had been out with Matt; _of course_ Matt had sent him ahead to get Foggy ready for interception, triage, _whatever_. With Claire no longer in the city and Foggy half-ass decent at rudimentary patching and stitching by this point, his apartment still moonlighted as _L'hôpital de Daredevil_ on occasion. 

“First question: Which one of them do you want to know about first; I left them together so your second question is null and void,” Clint said, and when Foggy squinted at him because he wasn’t making _any damn sense_ , Clint had the decency to wiggle in the chair, looking uncomfortable. 

“Who the hell is with Matty?” Foggy asked after a minute of mental math, and somehow, his brain supplied him with the answer a millisecond before Clint opened his mouth in response. 

“Thor. He didn’t tell you that he’d been patrolling now and again?” Foggy’s shock must have shown on his face, because Clint nodded once before repeating, this time with stern certainty. “He didn’t tell you that he’d been patrolling now and again.” 

Foggy felt his initial shock begin to morph into an amalgamation of concern, and nonsensically, _anger_. 

Clint cocked his head, looking thoughtful as he observed Foggy flip through his rolodex of emotions. “If Daddy and Daddy divorce, who keeps Murdock?” He asked eventually, lips twitching at the corners. 

“Oh, well, Thor can have him at this point,” Foggy said, running a hand over his face. “I won’t even put up a fight.” _I’m way too tired for this superhero bullshit; just a few more hours of sleep, that’s all I need, and **then** I can deal with it._

“Wait.” Foggy’s head snapped up, his neck twinging in protest. “Are _both of those assholes_ hurt? Clint, what the hell?!”

Clint’s eyes widened a fraction, and he brought both hands up, palms out, surrendering. “No, no! Don’t lose your shit. They’re great! Well, okay, so not _great_ , but not terrible. Murdock’s gonna need a few stitches and a whole lotta ice, and I’m hopin’ that Karen’s in a giving mood with the PTO over the next few days because he’s gonna need some time horizontal. Thor’s… maybe a little worse for the wear, pretty sure he’ll need a lot of the same plus a splint or two.”

Foggy blinked rapidly as his heart started to beat double time. “What happened to Thor?”

Clint winced. “His hand met a truck door. Closing. At full force and a half, I’d guess.”

Foggy wanted to throw up. “Do I even want to know what the fuck you assholes were up to? Or why the hell you left the two of them there? Actually, no to the first question, yes to the second question. What the hell, Clint?”

Clint was still holding his hands up. “Hey, fine, I won’t tell you, and I know this looks bad, but we were done with our shit. I’ve always wanted to say this and actually mean it; you should see the other guys. Murdock told me to come here, we were closer to you than his place, give you a heads up. Thor has Mjolnir, said he can get ‘em both here in a jiffy as soon as they were done with a bit of clean up. And as the incredibly _human_ human of the bunch, I wasn’t about to argue.” A pause. “And by the way, you don’t have to end every sentence with ‘what the Hell, Clint?’ I can just kinda fill that in myself, save you some breath.” 

Foggy didn’t have time to feel guilty, even if he did have a moment to spare for the thought that Clint wasn’t the one who deserved his ire; not a moment later, the sound of a key rattling around in the deadbolt lock stopped him from replying. Matty burst into the apartment first, as Foggy expected; he’d had a key for years. 

A quick once over let Foggy know that Matt’s suit seemed to be in one piece; it was his _face_ that wasn’t. A long and jagged tear ran along Matt’s jawline on the right side, steadily dripping blood onto Foggy’s carpet. Both Matt and the carpet had seen worse, however. “Fuck. I’m not scrubbing that out. You probably can’t tell but that’s _cream carpet_ , Matthew.” 

A small smile pulled across Matt’s lips before turning into a grimace as he reached up to pull his mask off. Foggy’s eyes shot behind him to where Thor had ambled into the apartment and was now pulling the door closed. 

The air left Foggy’s lungs. There was… a lot to take in, and Foggy didn’t know where to set his eyes as he watched Thor gently rest Mjolnir in front of the door. 

Thor’s left hand was quite obviously in need of serious medical attention, all four fingers bent at horrible, unnatural angles, the color of them nearing violet. Thor’s hair was streaked with the pink tinge of rain-diluted blood, mildly horrific juxtaposed against the smile that he aimed at Foggy when their eyes met. 

Thor was suited up. 

Foggy had seen footage of the Avengers in battle, of course; who hadn’t, over the years? It was nothing compared to seeing Thor’s battle gear up close. The black, scale-like mail covering his arms glimmered, even in the artificial lighting of the apartment; his chest plate _looked_ impenetrable, and Foggy wanted to _touch_ , nearly as badly as he wanted to run his hand over the deep, rich red cape that Thor was trying to unclasp one-handed. 

“Shit,” Foggy muttered to himself as he was startled into movement by the realization that he was just standing there, gaping like a fool while his injured best friend and boyfriend struggled to get out of their gear. Clint had already stood to make his way to Matt, ushering him toward the bathroom. Foggy had time to squeeze Matt’s shoulder as they hobbled by.

“How about I just buy you new carpet?” Matt called over his shoulder as he and Clint stepped into the hallway. “Red, perhaps? Or chocolate brown?”

“Fuck you kindly, Murdock,” Foggy called back, eyes and now hands on Thor, swatting Thor’s hand away and taking over the task of separating the heavy, rain-drenched cape from Thor’s upper-body armor. 

“Thank you,” Thor said, and he sounded like himself for the most part, if somewhat tired, maybe a little ashamed. 

“Are you okay?” Foggy asked as Thor held his arms up, giving access to the side-clasps to his armor. “Do we need to get you to a hospital?”

Thor huffed out a small breath. “I’ve been much worse off than this. I should regale you with the story of the time Fandral and I faced off against a hoard of Bilgesnipes-” at the expression on Foggy’s face, Thor hurriedly changed the topic. “I’ll be fine, Foggy, just fine. A wrap, or a splint to straighten my fingers, and they’ll be healed in a matter of days. An advantage of my, erm, heritage, let’s say; we Asgardians heal much more quickly than humans.” His armor now unclasped on both sides, Thor used his uninjured hand to pull it up over his head, leaving just his chain-mail shirt, pants, and knee-high battle boots remaining.

“Hmm,” Foggy mused, thoughtfully. “So you’ll really be fine?”

Thor smiled. “Of course.”

“Good.” Foggy whacked Thor’s upper arm with the open palm of his hand, knowing full well that Thor wouldn’t even feel it, and that he shouldn’t hit too hard as to avoid hurting himself on the scaled black metal. “What were you thinking? Why didn’t you tell me you were back to, what… _Avenging?_ Matt calls it _patrolling_ , but is that what it’s called when you do it? Were you ever going to tell me or was it going to be a secret until you got yourself killed or I saw you on the news or-”

“Foggy.”

Foggy clamped his mouth shut. Breathed in deeply through his nose, and exhaled. 

“Sorry,” Foggy said.

Thor smiled at him and extended his good hand outward. “Hold my sleeve?”

Foggy did as he’d asked, and helped Thor shimmy out of his chain-mail one arm at a time, wincing in sympathy at the sight of Thor’s grimace when he pulled his mangled hand through the unforgiving sleeve. They didn’t speak to each other again until Foggy had helped Thor remove his boots, after which they went into the living room and sat side by side on the couch, Thor in a black cotton undershirt and his dirty, bloody pants and Foggy still in sleep pants and a t-shirt. 

“I’ll get the splints once-”

“Matthew thought that-”

They made to speak at once, and Foggy instantly closed his eyes in fond annoyance and understanding as soon as he heard what Thor was about to say. 

“Matt thought that what, Thor?”

“Matt knows how you worry.” Matt interrupted as he walked into the living room before throwing himself down into the chair, looking exhausted, stitched wound red and angry, though no longer gaping or bleeding. “So I might’ve suggested to Thor that he might want to consider that, before telling you that he was coming out with me every now and again.” Matt’s face screwed up. “Why is this chair wet?”

“You mean why is _my_ chair wet,” Clint remarked, coming into the room and sprawling out onto his stomach on the floor, starfishing. “And by the way, there aren’t any splints in any of your kits. I checked when I was sewing up Frankenstein over there. Which, I gotta say, was some of my best work. I think I beat my previous record.” 

Ignoring Clint’s rambling, Foggy focused on trying to keep his cool with both Matt and Thor. 

“So, I just wanna-” Foggy turned to look at Thor, who had a touch of blood at his hairline. Foggy reached up with his thumb to brush it away. “This idiot told you to keep your little superhero duo gig a secret from me because I _worry_ , and that seemed like a smart idea to you?”

Thor looked downright sheepish. “It seemed like the right thing to do at the time? Which, clearly, I can see now was not the right choice.”

“No! I mean, yes! I mean- What is it with you people and keeping secrets? Is it part of your superhero contract? Do you literally have to sign on a dotted line somewhere saying ‘I solemnly swear to keep everyone who loves me in the dark about all of my dangerous goings-on even though that is exactly the opposite of what I should be doing?’ Christ. And YOU!” Foggy turned his attention to Matt. “Do you not remember how much trouble you were in when I found out you’d been hiding your schtick from me? Whyyyyyyy would you tell him to hide this from me?”

“...my eyes are closed but I’m going to read the context clues and assume you’re talking to me?” Matt asked, head back in the chair, cheeks turning a deep shade of scarlet. Before Foggy could _actually_ explode, Matt sighed. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to protect you, and before you yell, I know. You’ve just been really happy, Fog, and all of us wanted to keep you really happy, you know? You deserve it after… everything.” 

Foggy felt himself start to deflate, regardless of the annoyance and frustration still simmering beneath the surface. “Ugh. That’s. Annoyingly nice, but don’t _do_ that. I’m not happy about being kept out of the loop. I want to know if I need to keep an ear out, or an eye out, or if I can be backup, or just…” Foggy looked at Thor, who was staring at him, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth slightly ajar. “What?”

Thor closed his mouth. “No. Nothing, nothing. I’m sorry. I’ll let you know, from here on out. It’s my solemn vow, anytime I accompany Matthew, or engage in anything else that may be dangerous, I’ll let you know ahead of time, if I can.”

Foggy nodded. “Okay. Thank you.” 

The room fell silent then, and Foggy debated on asking for more details about where the three of them had been earlier, who they’d fought off and what, exactly, had happened, until he remembered that there were more pressing matters at hand. 

“Well, I suppose since I’m the only one who doesn’t look like they got hit by a goddamn train, I’ll run down to the 24-hour store and grab some splints.” Foggy leaned over to peck Thor on the lips before standing and stretching, his shoulders popping as he did so. 

“And some licorice?” Clint’s muffled voice came from the floor.

“...and some licorice, I guess.” Foggy said, slipping into his tennis shoes and wriggling into a zip-up hoodie.

“And-” Matt started.

“And a damn Cherry Pepsi for the asshat of the hour, yeah, yeah,” Foggy said, grabbing his wallet and keys and shoving them into the hoodie pockets. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clint shoot up into a sitting position on the floor. Foggy turned, exasperated. 

“Yes, dear?”

“If they have any of those vanilla Starbucks cold latte things in the glass bottles?” Clint jutted out his lower lip, and Foggy bit back a smile.

“Oh my god. Anything else, children?”

“No, thank you, Foggy!”

“Thanks, Fog!”

“Thank you, kærasti, please be careful!”

Foggy shook his head and turned to leave. With a bit of effort, he moved Mjolnir from where the hammer was blocking the door, and turned the lock on the handle before closing the door behind him. 

Foggy made it to the second step of the stairwell before he realized. 

How his legs carried him back to the apartment, he didn’t know, as he could barely get his key into the damn lock, his hands were trembling so hard. When he flung the door open, both Thor and Clint were standing just inside the doorway; their eyes, both sets the size of dinner plates, snapped from Mjolnir to Foggy in tandem.

“Uh,” Foggy said.

Clint burst out laughing, quickly dissolving into an ongoing fit of giggles that sounded a bit maniacal. 

Thor’s face split into the widest, most joyful grin that Foggy had ever seen.

“I love you too, by the way, even before the - _this_!” Thor exclaimed in a rush, and Foggy’s stomach dipped, his heart soared and his eyebrows creased in overwhelmed confusion all at once because _Thor loves me and I love him but he just said ‘too’ and when did I-? And did I just-?_

“Okay, will someone please tell me what the fuck is happening?” Matt’s desperate voice begged from the living room.

Clint grabbed his stomach, fell to the floor, and laughed even harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kærasti - Icelandic term meaning boyfriend, darling, or dear


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm still alive!
> 
> It's been over a month? Uhhh. I'm sorry. My only excuse is that I started grad school (who needs a second master's degree? This bitch, I guess) last month and, yeah. What is time?
> 
> So, I wrote this chapter and then panicked because I realized how long it's been since I posted chapter 8, and therefore my impatient ass is posting this un-beta'd. Every single mistake and awkward word choice is mine. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! This is technically the end of the overall narrative, but there's an epilogue yet to come. Everyone who is still here with me in this rarepair corner of the internet, I love you more than you'll ever know ♥
> 
> -EP

A month after Foggy’s life-long self-perceptions were turned upside down because he’d moved a hammer, he walked into Nelson’s Meats on a Sunday afternoon to find his boyfriend, Thor, God of Thunder, working behind the counter with his brother. 

Foggy stood just inside the door and stared for a few moments, blinking rapidly, ensuring that he wasn’t confused, deluded, experiencing early senility. But no, even after a solid minute of observing, he was fairly certain that Thor was gloved-hands deep in ground beef, forming patties for an elderly couple, Theo giving pointed instructions off to the side. Rather than continuing to stand in the entrance like a lurker, Foggy took the nearest seat at an empty table and waited, head cocked, eyes pinned on the scene with rapt attention. 

Thor noticed Foggy the moment he was finished packaging the order of a half-dozen burger patties, having handed the couple over to Theo to be cashed out. Thor’s face broke out into a grin and he waved, gloved hand stained greasy pink. Foggy shook his head and bit back a smile as he stood and approached the meat counter. 

“I have so many questions, but they’ll have to wait until _after_ I tell you how much I like the hair net. It really suits you. Forms to the bun and everything,” Foggy said, throwing in a wink for good measure. 

Thor leaned over the counter and smacked a kiss onto Foggy’s forehead. “Really? Should I bring some home with me, keep a few spares in the bedside table?” 

“If you’re going to be gross, you can take it far and away from here. I’m pretty sure sex talk is against health department code when brothers are involved,” Theo said, sliding into view by Thor’s side. “Hi. So kind of you to join us. Were you hoping for some meat today?”

“Pork belly’s on special,” Thor said, sounding and looking very serious. 

Foggy squinted, batting his eyes back and forth between the two of them. “Do I want to know? No. Yes? Why… Thor. Why are you working at my family’s store?”

Thor opened his mouth to answer, jaw clamping closed and eyebrow raising when Theo cut in quickly to interrupt. 

“It wasn’t my intention to put him to work. He just decided to glove up and help out. You bagged a curious one, Frogger.” Before Foggy could follow up with an even more exasperated _BUT WHY IS HE HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE?!_ Theo rushed to continue. “Oh, and I invited him to Sunday dinner. Since, y’know, someone else hadn’t taken the prerogative to do so.” 

Foggy made an indignant sound, a defensive string of not-words, eyes settling on Thor’s face, which remained placid. 

“It’s not like I wasn’t ever going to,” Foggy eventually settled on. “And it’s not like I was _hiding_ you or anything; we had lunch with my parents last week!” 

“Foggy,” Thor said, brows creasing in confusion. “I am not upset. You don’t have to explain yourself to me, though I am wondering why you hid this family ritual from me for so long. I wouldn’t have intruded without invitation. Theo asked me yesterday at the gym if I would want to join tonight, and I thought it might be a pleasant surprise.” Thor hesitated. “If I was mistaken—”

“No. Nope. Not even a little bit mistaken. And it’s just,” Foggy swallowed, smiled, and told Thor a blatant lie. “It’s just that my family, including Matty and Karen, all together, we can be a lot. I was waiting to subject you to that level of loud annoyance.” 

“Hey!” Theo cried. “Rude!”

Thor laughed. Guilt flooded through Foggy, the taste of the lie on his tongue metallic and unpleasant. _I’ll tell him the truth later. He’ll understand._

_I just hope it goes okay. I hope he does okay._

“I’m positive I’ll be anything but annoyed!” Thor said, excitement evident in his voice. “I’m rather looking forward to it. You have another surprise coming your way, Foggy my love.”

The teasing in his voice made Foggy groan. 

“Oh, god. That does not sound like a surprise I’m going to love.” 

*

Kate. Kate was the surprise. 

It wasn’t the first time that two of the ‘kids’ at the table had partners with them, but it _was_ the first time that Karen had ever brought along someone for Sunday dinner. It was a big deal, a far bigger deal than Foggy having his significant other wedged between himself and his father, regardless of the alien or superhero status of Thor. 

While Kate perhaps wouldn’t have been Foggy’s _first choice_ for a surprise, he could admit to himself that he was loving the constant blush on Karen’s face, riding high on smiling cheeks. Foggy couldn’t even be faux-upset about it; especially since he was revelling in the fact that, since everyone had already met Thor, his parents had honed in on Kate like overly-friendly birds of prey. 

She was squirming under all of the fawning and attention. Foggy could tell by the pleading glances that she shot him every thirty seconds. He consistently responded with an innocent grin and a comment that only served to spur on further conversation about how _fascinating it is that you’re an archer, Kate, don’t be so modest about your skills_ or _I think they would love to hear about how you and Karen met!_

Foggy would pay for it later. It would be worth it. 

Foggy vacillated between keeping a close eye on Kate and Karen’s absolute adorableness, and making sure that Thor seemed comfortable throughout the meal. It was more difficult a task to pull off than he’d expected, trying to track conversations between eight people squished together around a dining room table meant for four. Yet, every time Foggy would get Thor’s attention by putting a hand on his thigh, or brushing his shoulder with his fingertips, Thor would turn to meet his eye, smile on his face, or would respond to Foggy’s whispered “okay?” with a nod of his head or a peck on the lips. 

Everything went smoothly, and Foggy had nearly relaxed completely, figuring that everything was fine after all, by the time dessert made its way onto the table. _I had no reason to be worried about him. Maybe he rarely talks about them because he really is okay._

It wound up being the last piece of cheesecake that caused Thor to unravel. 

In reality, Foggy would come to understand, it wasn’t that there was only one piece of cheesecake left that caused Thor to tense up beside him, rigid as stone and just as unyielding when Foggy wrapped his hand around Thor’s wrist. It wasn’t even Matty’s teasing everyone at the table about how they should gift the last piece of cheesecake to “K-squared, because aren’t they the sweetest ones here?” that led to Thor covering his face with his hand (although it made Foggy want to do the same, because holy hell Murdock, that was a _terrible_ pun). 

It was Theo’s fault. Well, and Foggy’s, for bickering with him over the damn slice of dessert. 

“C’mon, Fog! You got the last biscuit!”

“Dude, you _already had_ one piece of cheesecake! In what possible universe is it fair that you get this piece, when I haven’t had one yet?”

“Boys,” Anna cut in, only slightly more than half-serious. “How old are you? Surely you can put on your big-boy pants.”

“Yeah, Foggy,” Matt snarked from across the table. “Nobody told me you weren’t wearing pants, but you should probably put some on. It’s only decent.” 

Kate snorted, wine splattering down her front, and Karen covered her mouth to hold in a cackle. Foggy shook his head and bit the insides of his cheeks, trying not to laugh, and nearly missed Theo trying to slide the piece of cheesecake onto his place. 

“Theo, you asshole!”

“Is that any way to talk to your big brother, Frogger?” Theo smirked.

“Oy vey,” Edward sighed, leaning back in his chair, and looked over to his wife. “What are we gonna do with this family of ours?”

Foggy didn’t know when Thor had started to spiral, but it was then that he noticed Thor drop his head into his right hand, elbow on his leg, hair curtaining the left side of his face, having long been freed from the bun and hair net from earlier in the day. Foggy felt suddenly like he’d swallowed a brick; he wrapped a hand around Thor’s wrist and leaned in close.

“Hey, hey. Are you okay? Does your head hurt?” Foggy tried to keep quiet, glad that conversation had continued around the table, though more reserved than before. The thought of Thor having a headache seemed bizarre to him, as he couldn’t recall it ever happening before, and he’d learned that Thor had somewhat of a healing factor that kept him from ever getting terribly under the weather. 

Thor didn’t respond. Didn’t move. 

_Fuck._

Foggy watched a droplet fall from behind Thor’s shield of hair, soaking instantly into Thor’s jeans, and the knowledge that Thor was crying spurred Foggy into action, because in no universe was it okay for Thor to be shut down, crying, _hurting_ , anytime, anywhere, but particularly in a room filled with people who loved (or at the very least adored) him. 

“Can you guys move this into the living room?” Foggy asked, voice cutting through the already retiring conversations being held at the table. “We were talking about watching the game, yeah? Should be starting soon. We’ll be a minute.”

Foggy’s family could be many things all at once, but it would never be said that they couldn’t recognize a sincere request from one of their own. Anna didn’t break stride, her words not so much as stuttering as she continued to speak to Kate as she stood, picking up her glass of wine and motioning to be followed into the other room. Foggy met her eyes in gratitude, and blinked back the sting of his own tears when Edward clapped a hand on his shoulder before leaving.

It took less than half a minute for everyone except for Foggy, Thor, and Karen to leave the room. Karen looked hesitant for a moment, standing where she’d been sitting, and as Foggy was preparing to ask what it was that she needed, she leaned down and gently moved to tuck Thor’s hair behind his ear. Foggy watched her give him a quick peck on the cheek before whispering something to him, something indiscernible but something that made Thor’s body relax just a fraction, made him nod his head. Karen straightened, sent Foggy a small smile, and left to join the rest of the family. 

Foggy, now sitting alone at his family dinner table with his quiet, hurting boyfriend, wasn’t sure what to do. He was still touching Thor, his hand gently wrapped around Thor’s left wrist, the skin delicate beneath his fingers. Foggy started there, moving his thumb back and forth as gently as he could, a simple reminder of their contact. 

Thor drew in a shuddering breath. 

Foggy moved his hand up Thor’s arm, not wanting for a moment to untether, until he was able to splay his fingers across Thor’s back. He gently rubbed circles over Thor’s spine, which gradually turned into soft figure-8’s, until Foggy simply rested his palm on the back of Thor’s neck. Thor’s back rose and fell with even breaths by then, and Foggy licked his lips before speaking, hoping that he wasn’t completely out of line. 

“Who used to get the last piece of dessert at your house? Or, well, your palace, probably. You, or Loki?”

Thor’s body quaked beneath Foggy’s hand, the first sound that left Thor’s lips in nearly half an hour being something between surprised laughter and a sob. Thor, like a rubber band snapped or a dam bursting forth, turned and fell into Foggy, who did his very best to catch him, size difference be damned. 

“I don’t know,” Thor started, lips moving against Foggy’s throat, head resting on Foggy’s shoulder, “I don’t know why it, today. I’ve told you stories, and.” Thor inhaled, breath shaky. “It’s not as though I’m not in a constant state of aching, for what I’ve lost.”

Foggy, doing his best to stroke Thor’s hair with the awkward way they were positioned in their seats, shook his head. “Hey, no. You don’t have to explain. Thor, there is no fucking way I can even begin to imagine what it must be like, to have lost your family. And to be around mine, it’s, I’m sorry. I should have—”

“Your family,” Thor said, and he sat back, looking at Foggy directly. Foggy’s heart split in two at the sight of Thor’s eyes, ringed red and watery. “Your family is delightful. They are strong, and they are giving. Your family is a great example of humanity, and I’m glad that they would share a meal and their home with me.” Thor sighed, sitting straight, and ran his hands over his face. “I think some of this...emotion, might be coming from a place of joy as well as pain.”

Foggy smiled at that. “That’s not a bad thing to hear. Doesn’t make seeing you hurt any easier. But you’re allowed to hurt, sweetheart.”

Thor looked at Foggy like he loved him. _He does. He does love you._

“It has been years since my brother and I bickered so lightheartedly as you and Theo,” Thor said slowly, “and yet the memories are there as though Loki might still be around the corner, ready to tease and torment with that grin of his.” Tears, freshly welled, spilled down Thor’s cheeks. “And Mother would take his side, of course. Well, with her words. With her eyes, she would take mine.”

Foggy’s smile grew broader, even as his heart broke further. “Your Mother sounds like she was a keeper.” He thought for a moment. “Do you think she would have liked me?”

Thor closed his eyes, crying in earnest. “She would have been smitten with you in an instant,” he said, unwavering. He hiccuped on his next breath, let out a painful laugh on the exhale. “And Loki? Something tells me he would have been _obsessed_ with you. Ah, damn it all, the two of you together may have been more than I could’ve handled.”

Foggy felt a pang of loss, a true jolt of grief for these people that he’d never met. He raised a hand to brush the tears from Thor’s cheek, and Thor covered Foggy’s hand with one of his own. When Thor opened his eyes, he turned his head to plant a kiss on Foggy’s palm before letting go. 

“Thank you for sharing your family with me, today. While it perhaps reminded me of what I’ve lost, my time with them has also reminded me of what I’ve gained.” Thor leaned forward and Foggy met him in the middle. Thor’s kiss tasted of tears, salty, and Foggy loved him. 

“They’re yours for the taking at this point. Pretty sure they’d trade me in for you,” Foggy joked once they parted. “You’d better face the music. You came to Sunday dinner, you’re practically a Nelson.”

Thor stretched his arms above his head and cracked his neck, a flash of amusement wiping a fleck of the grief from his eyes. “Thor Odinson-Nelson, hm? That has a touch of a royal ring to it, I suppose.”

Butterflies swarmed in Foggy's stomach, and he reminded himself that he really, really needed to figure out how to download an encyclopedia of human social context directly into Thor’s brain. 

“Uh, sure? Royal, sure. Uhm, so, just throwing it out there for future reference, that when you say things like that?”

“Like?”

“The last name with the implied hyphen? Thor Odinson-N-Nelson?”

“Yes.”

“That is what would typically happen when people get married. Here. On Earth. Sometimes a spouse takes the last name of another, and sometimes couples hyphenate the last names together, like. Like that.” 

“Ah.” Thor said, nodding. Then. “Foggy?”

“Yeah?”

“You know that I do actually live on Midgard, yes? And have for, oh, a year or so now.”

“....yes?”

“I know about hyphenated names, Foggy. And how they come to be.”

“...you’re an asshole.” Foggy felt his cheeks heat as he tried to ignore the way his heart had started _racing_.

“Hmm. Should we go join your family?”

*

It was during halftime when the possibility hit Foggy, like a suckerpunch square in the jaw. He craned his neck upward to look at Thor, who was sitting on the couch directly behind where Foggy was sitting on the floor, positioned with his back against Thor’s legs. 

“So, you obviously know that I lied about why I didn’t want you to come to family dinner earlier now, right? I was trying to be a good boyfriend and, you know.”

“Spare my feelings?” Thor offered, looking relaxed as he gazed down at Foggy. 

Foggy fought against the wave of shame that washed over him. “Yes. Will it, I mean. Since I lied to you, does that mean that I won’t be able to move Mjolnir anymore?” He hesitated before continuing. "Not that it actually, you know. Matters, I guess."

Thor’s laugh was booming, though not unkind. “Love, no, that’s not what it means. If every one action was to be deemed worthy or unworthy, nobody would ever wield Mjolnir. Your intent was to protect me from harm, and you didn’t try to stop me from exercising free will. I would be surprised if Mjolnir stopped responding for you.”

Something in Foggy relaxed at that, and he smiled before kissing Thor’s denim-clad kneecap. He turned around. 

Everyone in the room was staring at him, eyes wide. Well, everyone except for Matt, who looked like he wanted to burst and was biting his lip in an impressive effort to physically hold back his laughter. 

“Did you just say—”

“Does Clint know? Clint’s gonna laugh, and maybe cry, until he dies.”

“Foggy?! FOGGY, CAN YOU—”

“Son, I don’t understand. I thought only you could lift your hammer?” Edward directed his question to Thor rather than exploding all over Foggy, and Foggy looked up just in time to see a large, happy grin spread across Thor’s face at the realization that Edward had been talking to him, had referred to him as _son._

“Well, you see, let me tell you about this hammer. Her name is Mjolnir, and…”

Foggy leaned back against Thor’s legs and closed his eyes, basking in the sounds of his family all around him; whole, laughing, together. 

It was a _good_ day, and Foggy was grateful for it.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm here!
> 
> Apologies for this short lil epilogue taking 2 months to complete. It may be a tired excuse, but grad school is quite literally exhausting me. I wrote this chapter on so little sleep that I'm surprised my beta could make any sense of it. Speaking of, I owe FadedSepia an entire universe: thank you, fren.
> 
> And thank you, reader, for being here with me for this rarepair experience. I'm going to miss these two immensely; they've been so much fun.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> \- EP

It was the middle of the night in New Asgard when Foggy woke Thor to ask if he would help him cut his hair. 

Thor didn’t question it, just as Foggy had hoped he wouldn’t. Sure, it had taken him a few minutes to fully rouse, but Thor had thrown a sweatshirt over his sleep pants as he’d followed Foggy down the hallway from their guest room and into the small bathroom, both of them doing their best to keep their footfalls quiet as to not wake Korg, who was asleep in his own room downstairs. 

They moved silently, words unnecessary in the beginning as they maneuvered around each other. Foggy shivered as he removed his shirt and sat on the edge of the tub, feet inside the bath; Norway, as it turned out, got fucking _cold_ at night. When Thor rested a hand on Foggy’s shoulder, it was warm, and Foggy let out a breath. 

“How short?” Thor asked quietly, one hand keeping Foggy grounded while the other took the scissors from Foggy’s grasp. If Thor recognized them as being the scissors from their own apartment back in New York, he chose not to mention it. 

Foggy considered. “Up to my jaw? I want—” He twisted to look up at Thor, who stood patiently behind him in the dim light of the bathroom. 

“Make sure you leave enough for a braid?”

Thor dropped a kiss on Foggy’s forehead, and moved his hand from Foggy’s shoulder, using it instead to nudge Foggy’s head straight forward.

Thor didn’t ask if Foggy was sure, or if he was ready. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t talked about it over the last few months, laying in bed together; discussed the fact that Foggy no longer felt as though he was in a constant state of mourning, how Foggy was coming to find peace and trust in the belief that those he held dear wouldn’t be extinguished before his eyes in a heartbeat. How he was ready to move on from the darkest days of his life, which would eventually include doing things like giving back his Mother’s sweater that he’d slept with for five years, no longer waking Theo with panicked phone calls in the middle of the night to make sure that he was still there, allowing himself to get close to Matty again, like they were before.

And cutting his hair, the physical reminder of the time that had been spent grieving. 

Over the last two years, Foggy had checked so many things off of his list. His Mom had been confused when he’d handed back her sweater, not even remembering that she’d owned it. Theo didn’t mention the absence of panicked phone calls, but did start texting Foggy more frequently about stupid, menial shit, just to check in. And Foggy and Matty had gotten to the point where they felt safe to disagree, to argue, to piss each other off, without fear that they wouldn’t have the next day to sheepishly grovel, forgive, and move on. Foggy had moved into Bed Stuy with Thor, who himself had taken to trimming his own hair, but always held fast about wanting to keep it long. 

He liked it better that way, he said. He always had. It was nothing to do with mourning; he did that in other ways, more infinite ways, as his grief was just that. 

So Thor simply started cutting without double-checking, and Foggy loved him for it. Loved the way that Thor’s fingers felt in his hair, loved that Thor helped him feel more weightless with every strand of copper that fell onto the linoleum beneath their feet. 

Foggy _loved._

*

“Since you now — in the presence of witnesses, the spirit of the Allfather, and the royal parliament of New Asgard — have promised each other to live together in marriage, I declare you with this to be wife and wife. My King, you may kiss your bride!” 

The thunderous applause and _whoops_ from the guests nearly drowned out the tail end of Sif’s proclamation, and Foggy joined in, grinning from ear to ear and clapping as he watched Valkyrie all but sweep Carol off of her feet, dipping her low (height differences be damned!) before meeting her for a kiss. Thor was on his feet by Foggy’s side, whistling and clapping along, flowers forming a crown in his hair that framed him like a halo. When he met Foggy’s eyes he grinned and leaned down for his own kiss.

“Did you remember to bring the card from our room?” Thor asked, lips tickling Foggy’s ear before turning away again in order to applaud Valkyrie and Carol as they walked back down the aisle, hand in hand, faces flushed and eyes bright. 

Foggy groaned. “No, of course I didn’t. I forgot; do we have time to dip back before heading to the reception?” 

“I do imagine our King and Queen will be busy for a time, dearest,” Thor said. He held his hand out to Foggy, who took it easily, and pulled Foggy out into the aisle, which was starting to crowd with guests filing out, wanting to shake hands with the newlyweds. Foggy wasn’t sure if Asgardian weddings followed the same traditions as Earth weddings; whether Valkyrie and Carol would be taking photos, or going straight to the hall, or taking some time to themselves before getting the reception started. So, he decided to trust Thor when he pulled him out of a side door rather than waiting to push through the crowd of bodies. He trusted that they would have the time. 

Thor was quiet as they made their way back to Korg’s house, hand in hand, but Foggy didn’t get the sense that it was an uncomfortable silence. The walk back took less than ten minutes; New Asgard was not a large community, and from one end to the other took up very little space. Foggy looked up at Thor throughout their trek, to find him often looking out over the water, expression thoughtful, golden hair shining in the sun. 

“You’re unfairly beautiful,” Foggy said, squeezing Thor’s hand. Thor looked over and down at him, as though surprised to find him there, and the grin that bloomed across his face assured Foggy that everything was going to be okay. 

“You’re a sight to behold yourself. I thought I would miss all of that hair, but as it would turn out, seeing more of you is the opposite of a hardship,” Thor said as they dropped their grip on each other’s hands and walked up the steps of Korg’s front porch. Foggy rolled his eyes as he opened the door and stepped inside. 

“A romantic, my god boyfriend. Even more so during weddings, apparently.” 

Thor’s laughter boomed behind him as they climbed the stairs to their room, and within the minute Foggy had dug the card out from an inside pocket of one of his travel bags. Ensuring that the gift card was safely inside the envelope (“I cannot believe we’re getting them a gift card to fucking Bed Bath and Beyond, Thor.” “Is it not custom to get the brides what they ask for?!”), Foggy made to seal it.

“Wait! Wait, wait,” Thor reached out and laid a hand on Foggy’s wrist. Foggy stopped and looked up. He watched curiously as Thor stepped over to the bedside table and picked up his wallet, unfolded it, and pulled out a bill. 

“If you are willing to part with it,” Thor said, holding a worn and crumpled $20 bill out to Foggy, “I believe this has served us well. I think it would be nice to pass on a token of luck and love to our dear friends.”

Foggy took the bill from Thor gingerly. Thoughts of reunions during grand-reopenings, messages on mirrors, and multitudes of shared moments between the two of them rushed through him as he rubbed the money between his thumb and forefinger. The bill had made its way back and forth, back and forth between the two of them countless times, even after they’d made their home a shared one. Foggy expected the thought of parting with it to sting. It didn’t. 

“Yeah,” Foggy said. “Yeah, it would be nice. Grab me a pen, we should probably give them a little bit of backstory?”

Thor smiled and leaned down to kiss Foggy’s hair before turning around to look for a pen. Foggy took the card out of the envelope, folded the $20 bill and placed it inside. As Thor rummaged around, Foggy breathed. Thought about what it might be like to come back here one day, with his parents and Theo, Matty and Karen and yeah, maybe even Clint and Kate. Would they even be married in New Asgard, or would they be married in New York?

“I don’t see why we couldn’t be married twice,” Thor said, slipping his arms around Foggy’s waist from behind him, resting his chin on Foggy’s shoulder. 

_Oh, well, fuck. Guess I said it out loud. That’s. That’s...great, Nelson._

“I’ll marry you every day, anywhere,” Thor continued. 

Oh. _Oh._

“Oh.” Foggy leaned back into Thor’s chest, dropping the card onto the floor and covering Thor’s hands across his stomach with his own. “Yeah. Yes, please.”

Thor hummed. “Though maybe not today. Brunnhilde can be terrifying, and I would not want to steal her thunder.”

Foggy, heart full and aching sweetly, laughed.


End file.
